The Last Legionary Quartet

by Douglas Hill

  'We can't help each other now,’he went on. 'Just hope that they shut off the suppressor field so you can get off the planet.’

  There must be a way,Glr said, her voice anguished.

  'There isn't,'Keill said quietly. 'I can fight some of the effects of the nerve relaxant, but even then I’ll still be moving like a tired old man.'

  If you were a telepath,Glr cried, I could blast you free of the drug with a psychic shock.

  'But I'm not;Keill said. 'So...'

  He paused. A shock – jolting his nervous system back Into full operation? It could work. And there were other kinds of shock, besides telepathic.

  Hope rising within him, he quickly outlined to Glr what he was planning.

  Can it be done?she asked worriedly. It could kill you. ..

  'Either way,’Keill said with a grim silent laugh, 'I win – and the Deathwing loses.’

  As Glr withdrew in a mental cloud of anxiety, Keill readied himself. If his concentration and inner strength had been powerful, during his attempt to move the day before, now it was total. He was no longer merely experimenting. He was battling for survival – his determination, his will, his courage, every portion of his being focused in a final supreme effort. He did not consider the possibility of failure or defeat; they were not in the vocabulary of the Legions. For a trapped legionary, there were only two alternatives. Win through – or die.

  Time slid past as Keill fought his tireless, relentless battle against the drug. Once again he forced himself to roll to one side, to draw up his legs. A centimetre at a time, he dragged his legs past the edge of the bed, letting them trail while he concentrated on his upper body. Time and again he felt himself slump back, as the gluey constriction clung to his muscles. Time and again he gritted his teeth and struggled. Until at last he was half-sitting on the edge of the bed, allowing himself to slide in an awkward crumple to the floor.

  He paused there, relaxing for a moment, breathing deeply, listening for a movement from outside the room, in case the sound of his fall might bring Rensik or some of the clones to investigate. But no one came – and he gathered his resources for the next stage in the battle.

  Half-crawling, half-sliding, he pushed his way across the floor. His progress was no faster – an agonising centimetre at a time. Yet it began to seem microscopically less difficult as time went on. Was the very fact of his battle helping his resistance – speeding the moment when his body would throw off the effect of the drug? Hope surged, but he put it aside, pouring his concentration with increasing ferocity into his unwilling muscles.

  And at last he reached his goal. The nearest bank of medical equipment – some form of diagnostic machine, fed from the same power source that, overall, operated the tower's life support within the force field.

  He reached out a hand. There was no doubt now: he was moving ever so slightly faster, more easily. But it would still be some time before all of the drug had worn off naturally. And too much time had already passed. The medic might be back in the room any moment. His desperate plan had to be carried through.

  The machine's power lead pulled away from the wall, with a faint snap of a spark. With slow, fumbling fingers, Keill peeled the insulation further back from the thick cable. Then he took a grip on the bare wire – and without hesitation plunged it firmly back into the power socket.

  It was a livid blaze of white fire blasting into him – through every cell, along every nerve. His mouth opened in a soundless scream, his body arched and leaped in a giant convulsion, stiffening, jerking, contorting. But the terrifying spasm lasted only a second – for as his body flailed, the cable that he gripped was torn free of the socket.

  Released from the agony, he collapsed limply to the floor, half-unconscious. His heart was battering against his rib-cage; his lungs were unwilling to accept air; every muscle seemed to have turned to water. But the centre of his being, where his discipline and will existed, fought the weakness and coldly dragged him back to consciousness. He forced his eyes open, gasping with deep, ragged breaths, and raised his hand feebly to wipe the streaming sweat from his eyes.

  And a surge of elation swept him – swept aside the weakness and pain, even the agony of his fingers where the wire had scorched the skin.

  The hand that he had raised to his head had moved easily, normally.

  The shock had done its job. His nervous system was free of the drug.

  The elation, and his limitless determination, raised him from the floor. Unwilling to risk standing, he crawled back towards the bed and struggled to lift himself into it. Only then did he allow himself to relax, to slump on to the hard mattress and let weariness and reaction claim him.

  Rest was all he needed, he knew. The effects of the fearsome shock would not last long – his astonishing physical fitness would soon reassert itself, bringing his heartbeat back to normal, restoring strength to his body. He would lie still, regathering and readying himself. Anyone who came in now would assume he was still drugged – and he could carry on the pretence as long as necessary.

  But soon he would be himself again – with all his faculties and skills, awaiting their moment.

  Glr entered his mind with a cry of delight as she sensed what had happened. And now? she asked.

  'I’ll stay quiet awhile.’ Keill told her. 'But I won’t wait around for Altern to use his truth drug, and the mind-wipe.’

  Please do not,Glr said. There is another reason why you must act soon. Last night, while I sat sleepless among these miserable rocks, I glimpsed the stars through gaps in the cloud.

  For a moment Keill was puzzled by the triviality of the remark. Then he grasped her meaning, just as her inner voice sombrely confirmed it

  Correct. During the night, quite a stiff breeze sprang up out here.

  ---

  Urgency nearly disrupted the clarity of Keill's mental reply. 'Glr, if the Starwind's rising, you’ll have to find cover. Get back to the ship, in that cave.'

  Not yet,she said firmly. There still might be a way I can aid you. And at the moment it is merely a windy day.

  'Glr...!'he began. But then he was aware that she had left his mind, to prevent further argument.

  And in any case there was no more time for talk – or for rest.

  Four armed clones had entered the room. They were three Callors and a Miclas – but Keill was less interested in their faces than in their hands.

  The guns they carried were not projectile pistols, but up-to-date energy beam-guns – which, of course, would operate inside the force field, just like all the other powered equipment. Clearly Altern was taking no chances, even though Keill was supposed to be drugged and immobile.

  He allowed his body to remain limp, apparently helpless, as two of the clones lifted him roughly from the bed. While the other two held their guns fixed on him, he was deposited in a special chair standing against a wall near by – on wheels, sturdy and metal-framed, with a high back and an adjustable leg support. Keill slumped in the chair, letting himself sag to one side, as the four guards wheeled him from the room.

  The door opened on to a broad, circular area, giving Keill his first glimpse of the layout of the tower. At the centre of the open area were elevator shafts – tubes of energised metal, with flat metal discs sliding up or down within them, riding on some form of magnetic force. Each disc was large enough to hold six persons, clustered tightly together – and there were four of the shafts within the circular area, one pair back to back with the other. And around the area, solid doors gave access to every room on that level.

  Within the elevators themselves, the discs never stopped, but moved steadily at three-metre intervals. It was a familiar enough design, so that Keill knew that a disc reaching the top would slide over to enter a descending shaft, and those at the bottom would move to a rising one. He also knew that the walls of the shafts would be solid except at the level of each floor, where an opening allowed passengers to step on or off the moving discs. Doing so would not be difficult for a normall
y mobile person, but there was a heavy thump and jerk as the guards dragged Keill's chair on to a disc.

  As they did so, one of them misjudged the weight of Keill's sagging body, and a corner of the metal chair scraped against the wall of the elevator shaft.

  'Watch it!’ yelled another clone, dragging the chair hastily back. 'You trying to disrupt the power?’

  'Right,' said a third clone with a snicker. 'We’re supposed to go up, not down.’

  There was a general laugh, which subsided as the disc rose steadily up the shaft. But Keill had filed away that scrap of information. The discs were powered directly from the walls of the shaft – and that power seemed easily vulnerable to disruption.

  If he was ever going to make a break, he knew he would need all the disruption he could get Carefully he noted all the other details he could see, as the smooth ascent continued. Each level of the tower was more than three metres high, floor to ceiling, and the floors were thick – leaving a space of several seconds when the disc was fully enclosed, between the various openings in the shaft on each floor.

  And every level seemed to be laid out alike – the circular area around the elevators, doors opening from it to give access to the various rooms. And of course the rooms would have interconnecting doors, as the clinic had.

  It was a simple and functional layout. And it meant that there was no way to leave the building, or to move up and down within it, except by the elevators. Not very encouraging, Keill thought, for anyone planning to escape. Especially not when he would also need to find Tam, and take him along. Yet he calmly went on studying the surroundings, probing for something that might offer him the edge of a chance...

  Finally, on a higher level, the clones heaved the chair off the elevator disc and wheeled it in through the nearest door. It led to a remarkable room. An office, or a control centre, extending the full width of the tower, it was filled with complex hardware of every sort. A variety of computer and data storage consoles, serving many different purposes, mingled with communications devices of every shape and size. Keill stared at it longingly. Somewhere in that bulk of machinery might be a communications link leading directly to the headquarters of the Deathwing. Only a few metres away from him – but it might as well have been light years.

  The golden figure of Altern was standing at a long metal table, itself bearing tidy piles of machinery and material – smaller communication devices and calculators, sheaves of the thin plastic wafers of computer printouts, star charts, and more. But Keill’s eye was caught by the expanse of window behind the golden giant. He saw the sky of Rilyn – with torn rags of cloud scudding across it, patches of sun-bright pale sky shining through.

  Altern followed his gaze.

  'This planet's regular storm has begun to build,' he said in his empty, hollow voice. 'It is, of course, why we chose this planet – because it is almost never visited.’

  'I would have thought,' Keill replied, moving his mouth slowly as he had when drugged, 'that you'd have the sense to build an underground base.’

  'The Deathwing does not hide in caves. The force field will easily withstand the windstorm. It is a symbol, if you like – of how the Master will meet force with greater force, and defeat it.’

  There it was again, Keill thought. That eternal arrogance, the smug pride and self-satisfaction that the Deathwing always showed – as if belonging to it bred a conviction of superiority in its members. In past encounters, Keill had turned that arrogance to his own advantage. And now he might be able to do so again.

  'Let's hope you have a power failure,’ he muttered.

  'We will not,’ said Altern, 'And it would not help you if we did.' The smooth golden head turned.

  'Rensik!’

  From a corner of the room that Keill had not yet looked towards, the skinny medic hurried forward.

  'Inject the truth drug,’ Altern ordered.

  Still slumped as if helpless in the chair, Keill remained relaxed and motionless. He was aware that Rensik was fussing with another compressor syringe. And he was aware that Altern had snapped an order at the clones, so that two of them turned smartly and marched from the room, while the other two took up positions behind Keill’s chair, one on either side.

  But most of his awareness was turned inward. It was assessing his physical condition, noting that his heartbeat and breathing had returned to normal, that strength and vitality were flowing back into his body. And again he was gathering that strength, directing it, letting it build and swell within his control, the way a river will build its awesome pressure behind the controlling barrier of a dam.

  Then the medic bustled forward, syringe at the ready. And the dam burst.

  Keill exploded into action.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Keill powered his body into a backward roll, using the inclined chair for leverage as he swung his legs up and over. The whiplash movement was so swift that the two clone guards had barely begun to register it when Keill's feet sledge-hammered into their faces and flung them into crumpled heaps across the room.

  The impact had not slowed Keill's movement. The back roll brought him smoothly over on to his feet, facing the table where Altern stood. Rensik still had not moved, though his jaw had begun to drop –

  but the golden giant was quick enough to reach one huge hand towards a beam-gun resting on the corner of the table. Effortlessly Keill swept up the chair where he had sat and flung it at Altern, sending him reeling backwards. Then Keill turned and sprang for the door.

  He rose in the air in a leaping kick, his foot driving forward at precisely the centre point of the door's mass. The door did not merely open; it was blasted off its hinges by the force of the kick – and took with it the two other clone guards, who had been posted outside, and who had started to enter the room at the sound of the burst of violence from within.

  Hardly pausing in his smooth flowing movement, Keill reached down to wrench the energy guns from the fallen guards' holsters. The circular area was deserted, but as he leaped towards the nearest elevator, a beam of energy sizzled past his shoulder – from inside the room, where Altern had recovered his balance. But then Keill was on a downward elevator disc, hidden within the solid walls of the shaft.

  He knew exactly how many levels he and his guards had risen – and leaped from the disc at the floor where the clinic was. The area around it was empty, for the tower's other clones would only now be receiving the alarm from Altern. Soon enough, though, they would be storming through the tower looking for him. Every second would count from now on. But Glr had said that Tam was also on the clinic level – and he was not leaving Tam behind.

  He burst in through the clinic door, gun ready, but the room was empty. Near the bed where he had lain, he saw a locker, and inside it found his uniform and boots. He pulled the clothing on without a wasted motion, and almost laughed aloud. Altern had made another mistake. The square of plastic that was his second grenade had not been recognised: it was still on his belt.

  He went through the nearest door at a dead run, hoping to find Tam. But there was no one, again, in the room he had entered.

  Instead, there was something that brought him to an abrupt halt.

  He was in a laboratory. It was nearly the size of Altern's control centre, and nearly as full of computer hardware and other complex equipment. But the main purpose of the laboratory seemed biological, or biochemical. Large containers of chemicals and viscous liquids lined the solid metal counters. There were oversized electron miscroscopes, vacuum chambers, heating devices and more.

  Keill felt an icy chill as he guessed where he was. Here was the scientific heart of the entire operation on Rilyn. Here was the birthplace of the clones – where the original cells from the three legionaries were induced to grow and reproduce, and form their youthful duplicates.

  He moved towards the nearest counter for a closer look -but then whirled and crouched as a tiny rustle at the doorway alerted him. Even as he registered the presence of two clones, one on either
side of a frightened Doctor Rensik, his guns were flaming. The clones dropped In their tracks, before they could fire, smoke trailing from their uniforms where the lethal beams had struck.

  'Don't, don't,' Rensik babbled. 'Don't kill me!’

  Keill straightened, gesturing around him. 'Are the original cells here?’

  'Original? Oh – yes, yes, here,’ Rensik quavered.

  'Show me. Carefully.’

  The medic scurried past Keill, and opened the heavy door of a metal cabinet. A gush of refrigerated air swept out. 'They are here,’ Rensik chattered. 'Soon we begin again – another batch.

  Another Legion.’

  'No,’ Keill said harshly. 'You don't.'

  He moved forward, staring into the cabinet at the tiny vials that held in suspension all that remained besides Keill himself of the Legions of Moros.

  'No,’ he repeated, half to himself. 'They deserve a better death than this.’

  He sensed the movement even as Rensik began it. The medic had snatched up his favourite implement, the laser-scalpel, but he had no chance against the speed of Keill's turn. The axe-edge of Keill's hand smashed against his wrist, and the scalpel twisted around just as Rensik pressed the stud.

  The needle-point beam swept in a compact arc, opening the medic's skinny throat from ear to ear.

  Keill sprang back as the corpse slid to the floor, blood fountaining. Again his eyes sought the cabinet where the original cells lay. A diversion, he thought, to take some of the clones away from the hunt. And to put a final end to this ghoulishness.

  He slipped his one remaining grenade from his belt and tossed it, almost gently, into the refrigeration cabinet 'Rest in peace,’ he said quietly. Then he turned and ran.

  He was halfway across the adjoining room when the laboratory erupted in a thunder of smoke and flame. The shock of the blast struck him like a giant hand, but he rode the impact, using its impetus to hurl him against the interconnecting door to another room, slamming through it at top speed, balanced and ready.