Curse of the Legion

by Marshall S. Thomas

  "How many more dead, Thinker? How many more?" Priestess demanded.

  "None. No more! It stops here! We're staying."

  What in Deadman's name am I doing here, I thought. It's all for Priestess. Nobody's shooting at us here, what's wrong with that? We've both put in our time in Hell. Don't we deserve a little peace and quiet?

  ###

  I stood in the doorway to his room, breathing in the calm warmth and the deep silence and the dark. Lester was asleep, a faintly luminous angel against the soft dark blanket pulled up to his chin. A pale angel, completely innocent, completely relaxed in sleep. A child, trusting and secure and totally defenseless. He was achingly beautiful—silky brown hair, mine, a fragile, finely chiseled face and tender small lips, his mother's. And he had her eyes, deep liquid chocolate eyes, now closed in slumber. Half me and half her, just as I had promised, from that impossible past. This was it; this was what it was all about. This was what we had been fighting for. A glorious, awesomely beautiful child—the future of the race.

  It was so quiet, so peaceful, so warm and cozy here in our own home that I could only hold my breath and savor the moment. How fortunate was he, how fortunate were we, for this perfect moment? And how long would it last? They taught history in ConFree. Real history, not myth and not lies. Every single school kid learned about our past. We had built our perfect worlds with blood and sacrifice. A lot of Legion soldiers had died to ensure Lester had a peaceful life. And he was going to learn that, as soon as he was old enough to understand. Ignorance was just as dangerous as evil.

  I knew our happiness could end in a microfrac, if we ever really relaxed. All we could do was live for the present, and enjoy it while we could. And if anything or anyone threatened our sleeping children, we would strike without mercy at the enemy, all of us, united and resolute, and annihilate them from history. That was burnt right into my soul.

  ###

  "ATTEN-SHUN!" A thousand new recruits snapped to attention on the parade ground. It was a bright, clear morning, still fresh from last night's rain. The red dirt field had been ground to the consistency of metal by generations of troopers, but it was slick and wet from the last deluge. We instructors faced the kids. We were clad in black and they wore loose khaki fatigues, lined up in training squads, platoons and companies. Only the uniforms distinguished the two groups. We instructors were all immortals, kept young virtually forever by gene therapy to renew our cells and pump up our muscles. The difference was that the recruits really were young, still mortals, just out of midschool, and the instructors were older—even though we didn't look it. We had seen all we wanted to see of death and destruction, but that's what we were going to teach.

  "Welcome to Veltros Training Command!" the amps blasted the words over the assembled youth. "I am Commander Pietran Karel, C.O. of the Basic Training Course." He stood with a brace of other officers off to my right. "My staff and I are charged with transforming you people into Legion troopers and we all take that responsibility very seriously! We expect you to take it seriously too…"

  As he droned on I looked over the kids. I'd be working with the 5th Training Company, consisting of ten squads divided into two platoons. A hundred recruits, ten to each training squad. It was my first assignment as an instructor and I was determined to pass on everything I'd learned. I knew they'd need it.

  "…you will not all make it through Basic! Those of you who do make the cut will move on to Advanced Combat Training on Planet Hell. You'll be pleased to learn that we've returned the ACT to Planet Hell because we have more time now and it's such a good training experience. There's no need to worry about that right now. What you need to do right now is keep your mouth closed and your mind open!"

  I remembered Planet Hell very well, but I hadn't thought of it as a "good training experience" at the time. It had been more like a near death experience for me, I mused. The first two squads in the 5th were lined up abreast facing me. Kids, just out of school. What in Deadman's name were they doing here? They were all volunteers. Everybody in the Legion was a volunteer. They knew exactly what they were doing. ConFree believed in the Truth. That's what our proprop broadcast, all day and night—the Truth, just as it was. You could watch Legion soldiers dying horribly on the news, every day. But you also knew why they were dying.

  Young troopers, mostly male but plenty of females sprinkled among them as well. Nobody could stop a Legion volunteer. They were mostly Outworlders, pale skin and light eyes, but there were a lot of Assidics too, brown to golden skin and dark hair, slightly slanted dark eyes. Some of the Outworlders clearly had Assidic blood as well. Outworlders and Assidics were one people now, united against System slavery and tyranny. A few exotics stood out here and there—Cyrillians with ebony skin, one big troopie who looked like he could be a Mocain—it didn't matter. We took everyone. You didn't even have to be fully human. Anybody willing to bleed for ConFree was qualified.

  The future of the race. That's what I thought, looking over those kids. Where the hell do we get them? Our own children. They just keep coming. I knew as long as they kept coming, ConFree would prosper, and our civilization would live on. As soon as they stopped, we were doomed to extinction.

  ###

  "Fotsee snow keen?" Lester asked, squirming in my arms and reaching for the snow cream. I pulled the cone out of his reach and then gave him a little dab on the nose. He laughed at the cold and smeared it over his face. Priestess and I were standing with a crowd of other people under the eaves of the Frosty Snow Cream shop in Greenway. It was early evening and a light rain cast a faint mist over us all. Frosty's was lit up like a spaceport. It was crowded with sloppily dressed young people, shorts and sleeveless tops, elementary and midschool students, parents, gangly boys and adorable giggling young girls and even a few toddlers like Lester. One little kid had a balloon. Guys and girls were covertly casting glances at each other, the midschool kids inside the shop were chatting it up and dishing out snow cream creations and everyone was happy.

  This is what life should be like, I thought. Everyone happy, and getting along. I knew most worlds weren't like this. I had seen the difference. I had lived on Nimbos, a System world, exiled and psyched and powerless, where everyone was at each others' throats, where the rats in charge had divided the population into different classes and races and religions and beliefs, where jealousy and hatred reigned supreme. A simple scene like this would be impossible there. There weren't any snow cream shops on Nimbos, at least not for proles. And any public gathering would be infiltrated by pickpockets and informants, prostitutes and toms and bi's, with human wolves circling the herd for women and children and the weak, and child racist gang members cursing and pushing everyone else aside, anxious for resistance. It wasn't like that here. We were happy on ConFree worlds. We were one people, one language, one culture.

  An insane chant echoed in my mind, a nightmare from my past:

  Mine yours, yours mine

  Good bad, bad good

  White black, black white

  Truth lies, lies Truth

  Smart stupid, stupid smart

  Beaootiful ug-ly, ug-ly beaootiful

  Strong weak, weak strong

  Knowledge ig-no-rance, ig-no-rance knowledge

  Courage cowar-dice, cowar-dice courage

  Wealth poverty, poverty wealth

  Patrio-tism treason, treason patrio-tism

  War peace, peace war

  Victory defeat, defeat victory

  Freedom slavery, slavery freedom!

  Topsy-Turvy, it was called—an elementary school rhyme, for generations of doomed children. The System celebrated ignorance. They gloried in it. I shuddered. I knew exactly how real it was.

  Priestess hung on one of my arms, lazily licking her snow cream as I held Lester with the other arm. I looked into his eyes. He gave me a big smile. What a lovely child. He was absolutely beautiful. What an amazing creature. Priestess had insisted on naming him Lester—that was my civilian name, before I had joined the L
egion.

  "Thinker! What a mess! He's going to be cold!" Priestess was wiping the cream from Lester's face.

  "He's all right," I protested. "A little snow cream won't hurt him." The rules had recently changed, and procreation was acceptable for active duty Legion troopers who were not in combat slots. Had that not happened, Priestess and I would both have quit the Legion. I had promised her a baby, and we were both in non-combat status after the mission to Eiros 4. After that one, neither of us had any desire to see any more dead people—especially ourselves.

  And there we were. I was still alive, and I didn't know why. Fate — it must be fate. I sure didn't plan to have three wives. Priestess was my first, and my eternal love. She's a Legion girl and the only reason she puts up with the other two is that I've proven to her—in blood—that she means more to me than anyone else. Also I said I'd shoot myself in the head if she left me. Moontouch is my second wife, or maybe even my first, depending on how you count it. She's a Taka princess, a stunningly lovely sorceress from Andrion 2. All she had to do was blink, and I was hers. She can see into the future and into the past, and what she sees is pretty scary. She gave me my first son, Stormdawn. I love them both, Moontouch and Stormdawn, and will love them forever. Storm is growing up now, a tall slim youth who will inherit Southmark and lift his race up from the dust. My third wife is my darling Millie, whom I met when she was a student nurse on Chudit, about a hundred thousand years in the past. I sure didn't intend to get involved with her, but she saved the galaxy from the White Death, and it didn't seem right to let her die, so I brought her back with me. She's just a normal girl—except for what happened between us. I promised I'd be there for her, and I am. I'm tied to her for life, that's for sure. And I'm an immortal. So is she, by now.

  After our last mission to Eiros 4, Priestess and Millie and Stormdawn and I had returned to Andrion 2 to live happily at Stonehall with Moontouch and the Taka. Priestess and Millie and I were employed at Alpha Station. It was an idyllic time. I spent my free time with the family while filling in my journals, writing up the past for the future. It's something every citizen should do, if you've been directly involved in historical events. You can't shape the future without understanding the past. That's why the past is so damned important. I learned that from Beta One—Snow Leopard.

  And then the Legion came to me and Priestess, pitching us to accept instructor positions on Veltros. It was hard to refuse an offer like that. It was important, even critical, work. Priestess didn't trust them—she urged me to quit the Legion. However it was a non-combat assignment, on a lovely, peaceful world, and it also meant that the two of us would be alone, again. I think that's what sold Priestess.

  It was hard, leaving Moontouch and Stormdawn again, after all I'd been through to return to them. But Moontouch said she understood, and she didn't seem worried this time. I didn't dare ask her to read the future again. The last time what she had seen had been so horrific I didn't want any further glimpses into the future. But those events were over, the galaxy had quieted down, and from her calm reaction I was pretty sure Priestess and I would be returning, alive and intact, to Andrion 2. That's what I promised Moontouch.

  Millie was by then a Legion medic assigned to the Body Shop in Alpha Station. I wasn't anxious to leave her and our lovely baby girl Andrea. Andrea was a sweet little blonde angel, with a peaches and cream complexion and sparkling blue eyes. She was an ache in my heart—I just loved her. My first daughter! It was hard, leaving them. I told myself and I told them that it wouldn't be forever—just for a few years.

  When both the Pherdan Federation and the HyadFed collapsed after our attacks, the repercussions were all good. The System sued for peace, and offered concessions. ConFree agreed. We didn't need any more suicide missions into the dead heart of the Inners, and the number of active hotspots eased off. That's when they changed the rules about procreation, and people started to relax. Most of us had been fighting so long we were anxious to live a normal life. There was a population explosion among female Legion troopers. New life, for hopeful times. The biggest dragons had been slain. We deserved a little break. That was the thought.

  ###

  "All right, you're immortal!" Shorty's amplified voice crashed over the assembled troopers like an electric wave. "What does it mean?" We were in our comfortable air-conditioned arena, all hundred recruits of the 5th Company sitting at their airchairs behind the edpanels, ignoring the dark d-screens, focusing on the speaker up front. I was observing, standing against the walls with several other instructors. I'd been told Shorty was an effective speaker. He was certainly an intimidating speaker. Shorty was gigantic, the tallest man in the arena.

  "You've just taken the IG," he continued. "It only took a few fracs, didn't it? But it will change your life! It will extend your life—indefinitely, as far as the lifies can tell. Your biological clock has been reset—permanently! The cycle of life and aging and death has been broken—the aging and death part is gone! Your cells will regenerate themselves, indefinitely, young cells for old—it's almost like some children's fairy tale, only it's real. It's the fountain of youth, for us all, courtesy of ConFree's unholy lifies, altering God's master plan to benefit mankind's selfish needs!"

  He paused, bathing in the rapt attention of the hundred young recruits. "The Immortality Gene ensures you will remain young and strong and intelligent—until your death. Yes, until your death! You won't die of old age, of course—that's part of the history books, now. But the IG won't protect you from a laser burst in the brain, or getting blown to bits by xmax or contac, or barbecued by starmass. Dead immortals—there's an endless list of them, on the Legion Monument to the Dead.

  "Of course the Legion can do a lot to help you out, if you are seriously wounded. With stem cells, our lifies can grow or regenerate tissues and entire organs. Each cell will be from your own body. We can grow you a new arm, or leg, if you lose the original. We can grow it better, and stronger, than the original. Lose your spine? No problem. Intestines blown away? We can fix that. Eyes blasted to mush? We can grow new eyes. Lose your face? Sure—we can even fix that annoying nose that you never liked, while we're at it. All we ask is that you're still alive when you arrive at triage. We can give you a new heart, a Legion heart, cold and pitiless—it will beat flawlessly for a thousand years, or more." He lowered his voice. "We can give you a new brain. That's a little tricky, but it can be done."

  The arena was dead silent except for Shorty's hypnotic voice. "Some Legion troopers are almost entirely artificial by now. You can generally tell them, by the eyes, and what they say. Quite a few of your instructors have biogenned limbs and organs, but we're relatively young. Most of what we say should make sense to you. That's why we're instructors." A wave of nervous laughter rippled over the arena.

  I focused on a couple of recruits in the third row, a tall lanky young Outworlder male with a buzz haircut, and a lovely slim redheaded female beside him. They were both staring at Shorty intently, almost as if hypnotized. They both appeared to be stunned and amazed at what he was saying. The girl was scribbling non-stop on a notescreen. Our recruits were normally very enthusiastic about the Legion, and were anxious to learn all they could.

  "As you know, ConFree has made the IG available to all ConFree citizens and civilians, upon graduating midschool and coming of age," Shorty said. "Anyone who wants it can get it. You've all read about the political history of this decision. The ConFree authorities do what they're ordered to do—by the citizens. ConFree is the first stellar government to make the IG available to the people. The System and the gaggle of states that have succeeded it have never made that decision. Most of their people are still mortals, although the ruling classes don't seem to have any disagreement about using IG technology on themselves. We view that as a crime against humanity—but that's not our business.

  "Our business is defending the people of the Confederation of Free Worlds against all enemies, foreign and domestic. And you're the ones who are going to do it
. When you graduate as Legion troopers, you are going to be physically and mentally fit to do so. We'll pump your muscles up with gene therapy and build your endurance to the max. We'll fill your brains with everything you need to know all day during class and all night with sleep-ed. You'll learn everything you need to know about our people, our enemies, your mission, and all the weapons and technology available to you to accomplish the mission."

  The two kids I had been watching were almost trembling with excitement. I remembered when I had gone through Basic—it seemed like a distant dream now, but I had been just as excited as these two. The redhead was a real honey, I noted. If I had been sitting next to her I'd be paying more attention to her than to Shorty. But the male just continued gaping at Shorty.

  "Immortality is only one facet of this. Just remember it's a double-edged sword. One edge is immortality, the other is death. The Legion offers both…life and death. If you manage to cheat death, you'll leave the Legion as a citizen, and you'll have the respect of everyone in ConFree. You'll also have great responsibility in making decisions about the future for ConFree and all its people. Your stay-at-home civilian cousins may be immortal, but they don't know about death and they don't know about responsibility. The protected…have a comfortable life, but they don't really know about life. Only when you risk it, do you fully understand what it means. That's all! Take ten and return here on time!"

  ###

  "Blood Lotus Crush, from Guarados, sir," the little waitress said, expertly positioning the wicker-covered silvery dox gourd on my left and the little dox cup to my right. "An excellent choice." She smiled and drifted away as I activated the gourd's heating unit. An expensive choice, I thought—it had better be excellent! Priestess would never have let me spend this much on a couple of cups of dox, even Guarados Blood Lotus, but Priestess was shopping at the Fleetcom Commissary and likely spending a lot more than I was. I hate shopping, and I'll admit I'm a dox freak, and can never resist a new and exotic dox. Even if it is ridiculously expensive.