Curse of the Legion

by Marshall S. Thomas

  "Immortals in blood,

  Brothers in arms,

  Soldiers of the Legion

  "Flying black standards,

  Recon Boots,

  Delegates to the stars

  "All seasoned recruits

  For Heaven's wars

  Now recon death's cold road

  "Boots One, Boots Four—Stones and Shadows

  You're nine effectives short—

  Remember your brothers-in-arms.

  Missing in action,

  We join you soon!"

  Bluesky was crying. I sure didn't blame him. I should have been crying too—but I wasn't human anymore.

  ###

  "Slayer! Slayer! There are people in the flames!" Deadeye's voice barely registered on my consciousness. I was frantically rushing along the ragged lines of Taka refugees, examining every female in my quest for Moontouch. Deadeye's warriors were leading them away into the depths of the forest, to escape the growing catastrophe that was enveloping Alpha Station. I glanced up. It was just like Armageddon—the sky was full of falling stars, Legion fighters continued to shoot past us at treetop height, laying evil eggs that whistled down and erupted, tremendous opstars, deafening us, blinding us with horrific violence, bracketing the station. Red-hot Legion assault craft shot far overhead as well, launching scores of black Legion aircars that spun around Alpha Station like a plague of vultures, strafing the fields with tacstars and then disgorging squads of fully armored Legion troopers who advanced, immediately, under withering covering fire, into the station. The counterattack, I thought. They're using our raid as a diversion, and now they're taking Alpha Station. We must have vac superiority. Good!

  "Slayer! Look!" Deadeye pointed out into the fields that we had fled, but there was so much going on out there that at first I did not see it. "The Undead ship, Slayer—look! There are people in there!"

  People, only black silhouettes from here, outlined by a furious fire, scrambling over the cenite bones of that shredded, burning Omni shuttle, desperate to escape. Even as I looked, some of them fell into the fire.

  I ran forward without a word, adrenalized and shaking. Deadeye and some of his Taka followed. Moontouch could be in there! Those O bastards were exporting captives; that ship might have been full of Taka captives. We ran across those burning fields like escapees from an insane asylum, dashing right past fully armored Legion troopers who stared at us briefly through red faceplates but then ignored us. The heat from the burning shuttle set my A-vest and clothing alight as I neared it but I vaulted up into a roaring, hellish holocaust to snatch at one Taka woman whose hair was on fire. I picked her up bodily and tossed her to one of the Taka behind me. Two screaming children reached out for me and I grasped each one by a hand and tossed them bodily back out of the flames where Deadeye and another Taka caught them. I was dimly aware that I was superadrenalized and operating in that superhuman mode that the mind and body sometimes provide you in extraordinary situations, but I didn't have time to contemplate it. I also knew that I was on fire and would soon die. Two Taka women appeared in a swirling haze of heat. I reached out for them, gasping, and the section they were standing on collapsed beneath them and they fell screaming into a torrent of flames. I screamed too and that must have been when Deadeye and Sworn to Die tackled me and dragged me from the wreckage. I've never been able to remember that last part.

  Chapter 12

  Blood for Blood

  I floated in a bed of flame, balanced between two worlds, trapped in some weird kind of white A-suit. It stung. I drifted in and out of consciousness, in and out of my own nightmares. I could still feel the flames; I could see those two Taka women falling straight into Hell, right before my horrified eyes—again and again and again. Either one could have been Moontouch. I cried, I screamed, I slept, I dreamed.

  "We are doomed. I chant

  Dirges, in the dark, to the holy dead.

  The Gods laugh.

  You abandon us, again." Moontouch's words, searing like a whip. What was I, to bring this on her? Was everything my fault? Or were we all just dust motes, on the breath of the Gods?

  "Thinker? Can you hear me? Can you see me?" A young medic in white, gazing at me with some concern. My hands were enclosed in biogloves, I noted. My whole body appeared to be…

  "Yeah, I see you," somebody said.

  "Can you tell me your Legion serial number?"

  "Yeah, it's…" I faded out, back into the flames. The Legion cross appeared before me, a silvery cross sewn into a fearsome black banner, flapping in an icy wind. I reached out my hand to the flag. People were watching me. Who were they? A great crowd, males and females, solemn and quiet. Outworlders. They appeared…misty. As if they were not really there. My ancestors! I knew it in a flash. They were tough people, simple people, mortals, and they had never bowed a knee to tyranny. They had always fought, even when they knew the cause was hopeless, even when they knew they were going to die. No surrender! And they were watching me. They were watching me!

  The view changed. I was standing at the Iron Road, by a dark city, under a glorious, starry sky. Thousands of Legion youths were running past me, chanting their squad songs.

  "Victory!

  Victory!

  Victory!

  Victory or death!"

  Moontouch bent over to kiss me and her gleaming silky hair fell lightly over my face like butterfly wings. She opened her mouth and her soft lips brushed mine. I was paralyzed with love—her faint, musky scent swirled around me.

  "Farewell, my love," she said softly.

  "The Gods laugh.

  You abandon us, again.

  I call out, helpless,

  in the hands of the Undead

  A ladle of cool water

  To seal the peace

  Our fate unfolds

  As you burn the book of laws

  To serve the System's Cause

  As a soldier of the Legion.

  We are undone."

  ###

  I awoke, tears burning in my eyes, staring at the overhead. I was on an airbed in the bodyshop of a starship, surrounded by casualties. Doctors and medics bustled around. My skin was burning. My entire body appeared to be encased in a biosuit. Even my head was wrapped in the stuff, leaving only my eyes and nostrils and mouth clear.

  "…To serve the System's cause…" What did she mean by that? What in Deadman's name did she mean by that? I was a soldier of the Legion, of ConFree, not the System. The System could burn in Hell!

  ###

  "Three? Can you hear me?" Another voice, to haunt me. This one sounded faintly familiar. I blinked my eyes open to take a peek. Beta Eight was sitting by my airbed, peering at me curiously. I awoke instantly.

  "Dragon!" I choked. "What are you doing here?"

  "Where else would I be, Thinker? Anybody who's anybody is here." He gave me an easy grin. It was so good to see him again. Dragon was a first-class killer, wavy dark hair, deeply tanned flesh, deep sunken eyes, a resolute chin, and multicolored tattoos crawling up his chest and earlobes. He was one of my oldest comrades. All our ghosts, Beta ghosts, peered at me from his knuckles.

  "Damn," I said. "I've been out…how long?"

  "At least a week," he said. "With a good dose of biomags. They said you were overcooked. But you're going to be fine, once all that new skin grows in. How do you feel? What was it anyway? Couldn't have been plasma, or you wouldn't be here."

  "No…just flame. An O ship crashed." The ward was fairly quiet, I noticed, but still full of casualties. A nurse strolled down the aisle. "It…stings. Eight—do Priestess and Millie know I've been wounded?"

  "Nope. Casualty figures are not being released—not even individual notifications. Want me to arrange it?"

  "No. No, please. How about Moontouch? Or Stormdawn? Is there any news?"

  "I'm afraid not. I found Deadeye. He's not happy with the situation. He's keeping busy slaughtering O's."

  "Deadman." I sighed. "What's the sit with the war? Where am I any
way? Did the Legion take Alpha Base?"

  "You better believe we took it. I was with Recon. We kicked in the doors right after you busted into that aircar garage. Good work, by the way. Your diversion worked just like we planned. We killed a whole lot of O's."

  "I didn't…" I coughed. "…didn't realize it was a diversion."

  "Well, we didn't think it best to tell you. Need to know, commo security and so forth. But it worked!"

  "So we took the vac?"

  Dragon gave me a fierce grin. "The battle of Andrion Deep, they're calling it already. Fleetcom diverted most of its forces to the Andrion sector, doing a gigantic deception op around the Crista Cluster and Dindabai both. It was a risky strategy, they tell me. The Omnis had at least half their fleet moving against Andrion. Fleetcom met them in the deep, when most of them hadn't even arrived. Fleetcom struck in hyperspace. They broke into the O's wormholes and destroyed them."

  "Deadman! How the hell did they do that?"

  "Beats me. I've got no idea. But Fleetcom did it. They're the heroes. Next time you see a vachead, take off your hat. It's evidently a very dangerous procedure, very risky, and it's brand new. We lost a lot of ships—a whole lot. Nobody's saying how many. But we shattered the O's fleet. We smashed them to bits."

  "Deadman! That's wonderful."

  "First they did the deep, then they targeted the O ships that had established vac superiority around Andrion. The O's knew they were in trouble. If they launched, Fleetcom would follow them and destroy their wormholes. And if they didn't launch, they'd be targeted and destroyed by our fighters or cruisers. They all ran. We didn't get 'em all, but we got a whole lot."

  "Wonderful."

  "Andrion's retaken now. We just finished off the last of the O's in Farside Base. We'll be moving some of our casualties downside soon—as soon as we can fix up the bodyshops in Alpha and Farside. Right now we're in orbit around Andrion 2, and nobody's bothering us."

  "What about Dindabai?"

  "The O's are withdrawing. Pulling out their troops and disappearing into the deep. We've won, Three—at least we won this round. They're not finished, that's for sure. But we've got Andrion back. And Dindabai."

  "That's good," I said quietly. "Good." I felt tremendously weary. I knew I was going to sleep again, and the dreams were going to get me. My wife and my son were gone. I had to find them! Why had I ever left Andrion? Fool! Andrion is your home, you damned fool! Haven't you learned that yet? And now you've lost everything!

  ###

  "Wake up, Sleepyhead. You've got a visitor. How are you feeling?" That cute little Assidic nurse flashed me a bright smile. She was underage. Almost everybody of fighting age was either already in service or on the way. The war with the O's was going to take everything we had, and the home front was going to be staffed by kids. I was downside now, in the body shop of Alpha Station. The place had been pretty badly shot up, but it was still better than the starships. They were overflowing with casualties and woefully understaffed. Now, however, the Legion had raided hospitals all over the Crista Cluster for help, and dropped medics and physicians and nurses into both Andrion and Dindabai. This ward was crowded too, but a lot roomier than on the starship.

  "Better. It still stings, but not so bad." I gingerly touched my face with a biogloved hand. They had unwrapped my face a few days ago. My face had been fairly well protected by the comtop, but it had still gotten burnt pretty bad. My torso had been partially protected by the A-vest, but my arms and legs had been fried. I stole a glance at the mirror on the console. My face was a bright pink—moist new skin. I looked like some kind of clown.

  "Are you up to a visitor?"

  "Only if she's as pretty as you."

  She laughed. "It's a he—but he's a hunk. It's that dead-righteous brute who's been visiting you regularly—Dragon. And if you don't want him, I'll take him."

  "I'll see him. Wouldn't want to get you in trouble. He'll just love you and leave you."

  "The first part of that sounds good. I'll show him in."

  "Thinker! They've given you a new face. Pink! I like it. You're looking good." Dragon burst in without invitation, clad in camfax fatigues.

  "Board, Eight. Yeah, they're unwrapping me a piece at a time. I'm not sure about the color scheme—but I guess it'll change."

  "Aw right." He glanced at his chron. "I've got something I want you to see, Thinker. Nurse, does this airbed autofloat? Is it equipped with a glide unit?" He took a look at the underside of the airbed.

  "Yes sir, it does. Do you want to use it?"

  "Yeah, I want to take him out—uh, into the sunshine."

  "Yes sir, here. I'll help you." She reached under the bed, made a few adjustments, and the bed slid soundlessly off the frame and hovered a few marks off the floor.

  "I'll be happy to accompany you," the nurse said, holding the guiderail and looking up hopefully at Dragon.

  "Thanks, but we're fine. I'll have him back in a bit."

  "I don't mind."

  "Don't bother. Come on, Thinker." He took the guiderail and I floated out of the ward with him, leaving the poor little kid behind us.

  ###

  "Are we bustin' out of here?" I asked Dragon. We had meandered through the Gardens, which had been transformed into an extension of the Body Shop. It was full of wounded boots and vacheads propped up on glidebeds and sitting in airchairs and walking gingerly around, leaning on crutches and canes. It was a gloriously beautiful, sunlit day. It was almost impossible to believe that this had been a horrific battlefield just a short time ago, littered with corpses.

  "Nah—I wanted you to see something. Over by the starport."

  "I think that little nurse kind of likes you, Dragon."

  "Oh yeah? Hmm. She's kind of young."

  "What's been happening in the galaxy, Eight? I've been losing track."

  "Well—the O's are pulling back, into the deep. But we're not going to let them go, this time. We're going to pursue them, take on their outer defenses, and then strike at their homelands—wherever those might be." We were proceeding along a stone footpath lined with smouldering bushes. Andrion Starport loomed ahead. Even as we watched, a shuttle lifted, gliding up gently and then powering on, rumbling up at a steep angle, headed for the vac. The sound and vibrations rolled over us. It always gave me a thrill—the power of the Legion.

  "But they're from another universe. Surely we'll not be going there."

  "No. They've got bases here in our universe, right in our galaxy. But we've never discovered where they are. That's our priority now. Where did they go? Where are they retreating to? Guess who's going to find out? This will be my last visit to you, Thinker. Recon is going to be very, very busy, for the indefinite future."

  "Who's in your squad?"

  "Sweats is my Two. You remember him. And Tourist is still with us; he's the Manlink. Redhawk is my driver; we're happy about that. Psycho got his own squad. So did Trigger. Psycho married that Systie girl Sassy. It hasn't slowed him down, though, from what I hear. Redhawk is hitched to Tara's assistant, Whit. Oh, Doctor Doom is our medic! You know him too. The others you don't know."

  "What did you want to show me?" I asked. Dragon had slowed down and stopped, standing by my side with one hand on the guiderail.

  "Here they come," he said. "Reinforcements." He looked ahead to the starport. A mass of A-suited soldiers were marching our way, evidently having just disembarked from a shuttle, headed for Alpha Station. The A-suits didn't look quite right. As they came closer I identified the armor.

  "Systies!" I exclaimed "That's DefCorps armor." There was no mistaking that ruddy bronze-colored patina.

  "DefCorps armor," Dragon confirmed. "Take a good look—they're coming this way."

  They marched toward us like a great metal snake, glittering almost like gold in the sunlight, boots slamming into the dirt, raising dust. A brutal, irresistible tide of armored troopers, hundreds of them—and more behind them. They carried SG's and their helmets were removed, clipped to their
waists. They marched with perfect, awesome precision, like some nightmare segmented millipede or a tide of giant metallic ants, relentless, mindless, focused only on their destination, sweeping aside all obstacles.

  Everyone had stopped to watch them, as they approached Alpha Station. They marched under strange flags, gold and green banners emblazoned with glowing runes that meant nothing to me.

  "Are these guys on our side?" I asked, a trifle uneasily.

  "You'd better believe it." Dragon said with a tight grin.

  Closer. Now I could see the faces—girls! They were girls! All of them. What the hell? Lovely, hauntingly beautiful, perfectly expressionless faces. Grim, intent, focused. The boots slammed down, all in unison, a great, grinding metallic heartbeat shaking the earth. Passing right by us now, not even looking at us, swirling past with the dust. Biogens! Biogen girls, perfect killing machines, hundreds of them. Darling killers, armored angels. They were tough. They never quit. I had fought them, on Pherdos. I had killed plenty, and hated it.

  "That's the flag of the Biogen Liberation Front," said Dragon, "and that one there is the flag of the Provisional Revolutionary Government of Zequord 3 in the Hyades Cluster. Some time ago ConFree sent an appeal to all human governments, worlds and peoples, asking for military help to counter the O's."

  "Yeah, I heard it."

  "You know who responded? The Biogen Liberation Front responded—nobody else. Not a single human government answered us. But the biogens did. And they're not even human. Nobody told them what to do. They have their own government now. They decided it themselves. They confiscated three Systie starships, loaded them up with biogen troopers, and here they are. They know it's going to be a long hard road, fighting the O's. They said they're at our service. Andrion and Dindabai are going to be the advance bases for our counterattack against the O's."