The Last Legionary Quartet

by Douglas Hill

‘I would not stop you leaving, Keill Randor,’ said the old man. ‘I have told you all I can tell you – I cannot force you to believe me. But certainly, the moon called Creffa is exactly where we wish you to go.’

  Keill turned back, surprised. ‘But before, on Saltrenius... You went to some lengths to stop me.’

  ‘Of course. You were dying then – and you were going into danger unprepared.’ The old hand moved as before, to the side of the chair. ‘Bear with me a moment longer, and observe.’

  Again the surface of the nearby wall shivered. But this time it was not the silent group of hooded figures that Keill saw.

  Instead the screen revealed an eerie alien landscape, stark, rock-strewn, the shadows deep black and sharply defined. In the background rose the high, curved surface of a life-support dome, sleek and shiny in the brilliant light.

  In the foreground was the bulky, cylindrical shape of a spaceship – which Keill recognized at once.

  The cruiser he had seen at the Saltrenius spaceport. The ship that belonged to the three men who called themselves legionaries.

  ‘This is Creffa,’ Talis said. ‘I see you have recognized the ship. One of our monitoring devices recorded this scene within the last few days.’

  Keill said nothing, but watched. The airlock of the ship was opening, and figures were appearing.

  They were spacesuited, of course, but Keill did not need to see faces to the first man who descended to the dusty surface.

  A head taller than the others, enormous width of shoulder... The mocking giant who preferred to wear only half a legionary uniform.

  Behind him from the ship, stooping under sizeable containers of what must have been supplies, came other figures. Not just the two that Keill had expected. The giant had acquired some new companions.

  In all, there were nine men who left the ship and made their way, through the light gravity of Creffa, towards the dome.

  ‘Are there more inside?’ Keill asked, as the image faded from the screen.

  ‘No,’ Talis said. ‘Only the nine. Six more had been recruited – from the criminal element on Saltrenius –

  before we took you from the planet. And hear me, Keill Randor – not one of them is a legionary.’

  Keill nodded. ‘As I thought. I was certain before that the first three were not.’

  Surprise showed in Talis’s voice. ‘You knew? Yet you were going – ill as you were, and unaided – to walk into their trap?’

  ‘A trap is no trap if it is expected,’ Keill said. ‘I had to go. As I still must – whether there are nine or ninety.’

  ‘Just so,’ Talis replied. ‘Much could be learned, many questions answered, by patient and careful observation on Creffa.’

  ‘Observation?’ Keill echoed with a grim smile. ‘Something more, Talis. It’s clear that whoever destroyed Moros also sent those men to pose as legionaries, and to set up a base that would attract any survivors. I want to spring that trap before any real legionaries walk into it unknowingly.’ His voice grew tense. ‘Some may already have done so while I’ve been here.’

  The cowled figure shook his head. ‘None has. Our monitoring devices have kept a full-time watch. In the same way, all our devices have searched and scoured the galaxy, since the day of Moros’s destruction, looking for surviving legionaries. We have found none – except yourself.’

  Keill was stunned, hearing the words he had been half-dreading for so long. ‘There must be some! You can’t monitor the entire galaxy!’

  ‘If there are,’ Talis said softly, ’they are in hiding. They are not moving around the galaxy as you did, searching for their fellows. Had any done so, we would have located them – just as we located you.’ He reached a sympathetic hand towards Keill. ‘No, I greatly fear... that you may be the last legionary.’

  Keill’s face revealed little of the torment within him – only a momentary twisting of his features, a flash of anguish in his eyes. Then his control returned, and he gazed calmly at Talis.

  ‘Even if that is true,’ he said levelly, ‘I am still going to this moon, to do what must be done.’

  Well spoken,said the bright inner voice of Glr. Foolish, stubborn and brave – no wonder humans are so short-lived.

  Keill ignored the interruption, for Talis had raised an admonishing hand. ‘I agree, you must go. But I urge you – do not plunge into rash action. Use caution!’

  Keill rose to his feet, smiling thinly. ‘Talis, it is too late for caution. A time always comes when it is necessary to act, not merely to observe. That time has come now, for me – and for those impostors on Creffa.’

  PART THREE

  KILLERS’ MOON

  CHAPTER NINE

  Enveloped in the misted nothingness of Overlight, Keill Randor completed his routine check of his spaceship’s systems, leaned back in the slingseat and stretched luxuriously.

  He was relaxed, entirely at ease, and glad to be on the move. Inaction was nearly the worst torment of all, he thought. Especially when inaction had been forced on him, by the old man on the hidden asteroid.

  So much time had been lost, while he had lain unconscious, and then while he had slowly recovered, after... whatever had been done to him. Time that the false legionaries, in their base on the moon called Creffa, would have used to strengthen their position.

  But at least they were still there, according to the Overseers’ monitoring devices. And no legionaries had walked into that trap...

  Keill pushed that thought away. He was not willing to face the possible truth of old Talis’s statement that there were no other legionaries. He was not sure that he could ever face the possibility that he might be the last of his race – which meant living with a unique and terrible loneliness for the rest of his life.

  Again he brought his thoughts under control. Loneliness of any kind was not a subject to dwell on in deep.space, especially not in the emptiness of Overlight. It could do strange things to a human mind, if that mind turned to brooding and fretting. The best remedy was keeping busy.

  He glanced down again at the last read-out, still showing on his computer screen from his systems check. The Overseers had certainly renewed his ship, but had sensibly left its components as they were, as Keill was used to. He knew that they could easily have built in some wonderfully advanced technology, superior to the systems in his ship – but he would have needed more time to be trained to use it. They may well have made some slight adjustments to the ship’s computer guidance systems, but that did not affect Keill. The ship remained as familiar as ever, like an extension of his own body and reflexes.

  He thought back to his departure from the asteroid – if it was an asteroid. As mysterious and secretive as ever, Talis had instructed Keill to keep his viewscreens blank after he entered his ship, and to keep them that way until he entered Overlight. His ship computer had been preprogrammed, Talis had said, to take the ship off the asteroid and then to enter Overlight as soon as possible.

  And, Talis had added, the computer had been programmed to erase those instructions once Keill was in Overlight.

  Keill had wondered about that statement. If the Overseers had intended him to go out as their emissary, as Talis had said earlier, how would he ever have contacted them, reported to them? Talis had read his puzzlement correctly, and had explained.

  ‘If you ever have any wish to contact us,’ the old man had said, ’we have provided a communications link. It will be there when you need it.’

  At the time, with his doubts and disbeliefs still strong, Keill had not given much thought to the statement.

  He had felt that there was never likely to be a time when he would want to make any contact with the old man and his peculiar, hooded friends. But now, out in space, that vague assurance of a communications link worried him.

  Communications were definitely one of the Overseers’ specialities. He had been shown some of their monitoring devices, of the sort that they had scattered around the Inhabited Worlds – amazingly intricate but compact objects,
some no bigger than a fist, none larger than a man’s head. Operating like spy satellites, they could pick up, record and transmit most forms of broadcast media from a planet’s surface, whether electronic, holo or whatever. They could also, from orbit, film and transmit visual images of a planet that were astonishingly detailed – as Keill had seen with the tape of the nine men on Creffa. And the devices were nearly undetectable by the people of any planet, because of their size and the erratic orbits that were built into them.

  Also, if anyone did locate them by accident, the devices would self-destruct before they could be examined closely.

  That fact especially troubled Keill.

  One of the pleasures of being away from the asteroid had been the feeling of personal freedom – of not being watched. He had known, all the time he was there, that he had been under scrutiny by similar monitors. But was he still being watched? Was there a device hidden on his ship, monitoring him? Or was the communications link that Talis had mentioned merely waiting somewhere in the ship – waiting for the moment when he might need it, before somehow becoming activated?

  If so, where was it? And was it, too, programmed to self-destruct if wrongly handled?

  He strongly hoped that the Overseers had not planted such a device on the ship. If he came across it unknowingly, and mishandled it, he could blow himself out of the sky.

  Time to make a search, he thought.

  He unstrapped himself from the slingseat and stood up. The familiar drift of his body, in null-gravity, did not trouble him. The boots of his spacesuit adhered to the treated deck of the ship, keeping him from floating. He moved towards a row of compartments that extended across one side of the single inner chamber of the ship. They held all his necessities – food supplies in one, weapons in another, clothing and personal possessions in another, and so on.

  One thing about a single-person fighter, he thought, there are only so many places where an object can be hidden. Besides those compartments, there were the ship’s various systems – the drive, life support, ship’s weapons and the rest – behind heavy bulkheads at the nose and stern. He could go through all possible storage spaces in a few minutes. But he would be thorough, he told himself, and take his time. If the Overseers had planted a monitor, it could be extremely miniaturized. But there was time – about half an hour yet before he would come out of Overlight near the planet Saltrenius.

  And then something odd happened, something totally irrational.

  He began to laugh.

  Not out loud, but to himself, within himself. Carefree, bubbling laughter...

  No, he thought – and anger surged up in him, blotting out the laughter. It’s not me. It’s that alien – that winged, telepathic giggler of an alien.

  Instantly the silent, laughing voice formed in his mind. Now that you have discovered me, may I be released? Your weapons store does not suit my dignity.

  Keill moved swiftly to the weapons compartment and flung open its door.

  The round, colourless eyes of the little alien gazed at him, unblinkingly.

  Your communications link reporting for duty, sir,it said.

  The alien floated out, automatically spreading its wings despite the null-gravity, and drifted over to the control panel. There it settled on the edge, gripping with the strange little feet that were like hands. And Keill followed, speechless with anger, flinging himself into the slingseat, glaring at the creature. It returned his look calmly, but the silent laughter faded.

  I warned Talis you would be angry, the inner voice said. But he felt you would not allow me to accompany you if you knew beforehand.

  ‘He was quite right,’ said Keill coldly. ‘And I don’t want you to accompany me now. Give me the figures, and I’ll alter course and take you back.’

  I cannot,the alien said. I do not know the coordinates.

  ‘You must!’ Keill said. ‘Surely even those senile old madmen wouldn’t send you away unless you could get back!’

  I can get back, the voice replied. But I do not know how.

  As Keill was about to explode, the alien hastily went on: The data is in my unconscious memory. Talis can recall me by projecting a certain code to my mind. I will then automatically programme the computer for return. But I will at once forget the data, consciously – just as the computer will erase the figures from its memory once the new course is begun.

  Again Keill was speechless. More of Talis’s cursed secrecy. And, like every action of the Overseers, it seemed both so plausible – and yet so wholly mad.

  Then a thought struck him. ‘You can reach Talis’s mind from here?’

  The reach of an Ehrlil mind has no limits in space.The little alien spoke matter-of-factly, without pride.

  ‘If so,’ Keill said, ’you could have remained on the asteroid, and still set up a "communications link" with me, wherever I was.’

  True.

  ‘Then why are you here?’ Keill shouted.

  Talis did not wish you to go into danger unaided.

  ‘Unaided?’ Keill echoed. ‘I’m to face nine men who will almost certainly try to kill me – and I must do so with you filling my mind with crazed giggling?’

  I will not get in your way.The alien’s silent voice seemed hurt. But I can use a weapon, as you know.

  And pilot your ship.

  ‘You can pilot this ship?’

  Human ships are child’s play – even for a child like myself.The words held a trace of laughter, quickly fading. How do you think you were taken from Saltrenius to the asteroid?

  Keill pondered. ‘Perhaps then you can be of use.’

  He had worried, earlier, about leaving his craft unattended after landing on Creffa. If some of his enemies located it, he would have his escape cut off. But now, with the alien...

  Exactly,the inner voice said, replying to his thought. I will guard your ship. And whatever else you wish. I am under your orders.

  ‘All right,’ Keill said at last. ‘As long as you remember that, and don’t start taking orders from Talis at long range. Remember that I’m going on a task of my own choosing. I’m not the Overseers’ emissary –

  and I want no interference, from them or from you.’

  It will be as you say.The thought seemed saddened. But you are being needlessly stubborn. All that Talis told you is the truth.

  Keill was disturbed by the words, and by the clear sincerity and earnestness behind them. Such things could not be pretended, in a telepathic voice.

  ‘No doubt you believe it,’ Keill said. ‘But I’m not concerned now with tales of Warlords and the rest of it. My concern is with nine men on Creffa, and what I can get out of them about the death of my world.’

  It is all the same thing, said the alien patiently. Can you not see that the death of Moros should demand your belief in the Warlord? Such an act could only be done by someone extremely powerful, and extremely ruthless.

  Keill did not reply at once. It was a point that he himself always came back to. Who was there in the galaxy dangerous enough, insane enough, to destroy the Legions? How could an attacker get past the defences of Moros? And, most of all, why?

  When it came down to answers, he thought ruefully, Talis’s story of the Warlord was the only one he had been given, by anyone. If only it was not so unlikely...

  Only your stubbornness makes it so,came the voice of the alien.

  ‘That’s another thing,’ Keill said sharply. ‘While you’re here, you will keep out of my mind. My thoughts are my own.’

  I told you before that I receive with difficulty from humans,the alien replied. I could not read the deeper levels of your mind if I wished to. I can receive only those thoughts that you form clearly, on the surface of your mind, as if you were speaking them.

  ‘Nothing more?’ Keill asked suspiciously.

  Only blurred impressions, mixtures of emotions. Indeed, that is all I ever get from most humans. You, at least, have some clarity of mind, if not as much as the Overseers. That is one reason why I was willing to
come with you.

  ‘One reason?’ Keill was interested in spite of himself. ‘What are the others?’

  First, because I agree with Talis that you will need me,the alien said. Second, because it is obvious that life in your company will never be unexciting.

  ‘It might be shorter than you bargained for,’ Keill said grimly.

  Possibly. ‘But I do not fear dying – except from boredom.

  Keill could not help smiling at the words, and a trace of the alien’s laughter crept into his mind in response. He leaned back and studied the creature again. The slender, bird-like body, the domed head, the round eyes – it was almost a clownish figure. Yet the brightness of those eyes, and the capability of the hands, belied the foolishness. Keill thought for a moment of this little being, alone in its own ship, penetrating the inconceivable distances from one galaxy to another, facing whatever unknowable dangers lay on such a path...

  He realized that beyond its appearance, beyond its zany sense of humour, it – no, he corrected himself, she – deserved respect. She was a being of high intelligence, ability and courage.

  ‘All right, little friend,’ he said at last, still smiling. ‘Glr – that is what you are called? We’ll be comrades-in-arms, for a while. I hope neither of us will regret it.’

  We will not, Keill Randor,said Glr. For myself, I welcome your friendship. As I will welcome even more the time when you learn that Talis spoke the truth. I hope the knowledge is not acquired too painfully.

  A faint chill prickled Keill’s spine. ‘Do you read the future, as well as minds?’

  No. But I can make predictions, as you can, from the available data.

  Before Keill could reply, the computer intruded with a warning tone to draw his attention, and a cluster of figures flashing on to its screen.

  They were nearing the point of emerging from Overlight.

  Keill turned his concentration to the controls, readying the ship for entrance into normal space, checking the course that would bypass the planet Saltrenius towards a landing on its moon, Creffa.