Soldier of the Legion sotl-1

by Marshall S. Thomas

  I don’t know how long I just stood there like an idiot. Helpless, while Priestess seemed to have collapsed into a hopeless trance.

  A splash interrupted our reverie. Valkyrie rose from the water, resplendent in wet, streaming blonde-white hair, ruddy bronze skin, and a dripping t-top and panties. Her E was balanced on one hip and I truly didn’t know what she planned to do with it. She had never looked better.

  Her voice was high and forced. “Hi, guys.”

  I felt dead. Empty. Flat. I looked at Priestess for inspiration. She met my gaze then turned away, arms crossed. I suddenly remembered to breathe, then I drew my lips tight and turned to our visitor. “Hello, Valkyrie.”

  She was right on the edge. The water was warm and the sun was hot but I swear she shivered. “Are you two having fun?”

  “Well, we were just…”

  She snapped, “Let’s skip the clinical details, if you don’t mind. Can I talk with you for a frac? Thinker? If you’re not too busy?”

  I looked at Priestess again but she’d turned her back to me. “Yeah, sure. Uhh…it’s nice to see you.” I’m not too good in a personal crisis. Valkyrie should have just shot me, but she held off.

  Back on Hell we had been stranded, alone, fighting for our lives, back to back. I never understood why, but Valkyrie had claimed me as hers when we were on the ragged edge of survival. After we’d finally emerged alive, I took it for granted that she would wipe me off like dust on her boots but she didn’t. She made it clear to everyone that I was hers until the stars froze. Was that it? Was I just a battle scar she wore proudly? It didn’t matter. No matter what happened, I knew that we would die for each other without a second thought. Even now…though it occurred to me that I might be the first to die.

  “What’s that on your finger, Thinker?” she asked. I looked down at my hand and blinked. I wore her Legion ring.

  “It’s my ring, isn’t it?” Valkyrie asked.

  “Uhh…yes.”

  “So what’s the little slut doing here?”

  “Now look, Valkyrie…”

  “Don’t tell me to look! I’ve seen enough! You told me you loved me, and now you’re with her. Is this purely a commercial transaction, or are you going to tell me you love her, too?”

  Priestess’s anguish suddenly flashed into something darker. She whirled around and leaped between Valkyrie and me, facing her in a fighting stance. “I don’t have to listen to this!”

  “Priestess, Valkyrie-calm down!” Nobody listened to me.

  “Shut up, brat, or I’ll rearrange your ugly little face!” Valkyrie snarled at Priestess. “You’ll listen to everything I say!”

  Priestess swung at her with a right, convulsed with rage. I jumped between them just as Valkyrie snapped a hard kick. I intercepted it with my chest. They ignored me and came together like two bloodcats fighting over a mate, spitting hatred, clawing and punching and kicking. I didn’t mind so much absorbing their punches-what really hurt was that I realized that I really did love them both.

  “Priestess! Valkyrie! Stop it! Stop, all right? Deadman!” We rolled in the sand. I had caught a few really good hits from Valkyrie and my head spun, but I finally had Priestess in a headlock, and I had Valkyrie by her hair. What a mess!

  “No more fighting! All right?”

  “Yes,” Priestess gasped.

  “Agreed,” Valkyrie hissed.

  “Let’s get up now,” I said. “No more fighting!” I released them, and we all sank back onto the sand on our knees.

  “Brat!”

  “Bitch!”

  “Stop it!” I shouted. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, this is my fault! Don’t blame Priestess. I’m to blame, not her!” Priestess had a bloody nose and the beginnings of a black eye. Valkyrie had a split lip and some nasty cuts and scratches. Blood was dribbling down her chin and then she did what I never, ever expected. She started to cry, and it hurt me worse than I could have ever believed.

  “I loved you so much, Thinker,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

  “Oh, Deadman. Please don’t cry, Valkyrie.” I didn’t know what to do. I knew how to fight but never could handle tears.

  Valkyrie sniffled and turned her bloodshot eyes to Priestess. “You all right?”

  “I’m fine,” Priestess replied tensely. I think she was almost as confused as I was.

  Valkyrie wiped her nose with the back of her hand and sniffled again, gathering her self-control. “Good. You’re lucky I didn’t lose my temper-or you’d be dead.” Valkyrie raised her chin proudly. “I’m leaving now.” She turned to me. “I just wanted you to know that you hurt me.” Then she rose and regarded Priestess. “You stole my man, Priestess. That was wrong. And I’m not going to forget it. Goodbye, Thinker. We’ll meet again.”

  She found her E, slung it over her back, and started into the surf. Then she turned sharply. “Thinker, if I call you-anytime-you must come. We are pledged. Forever. Don’t you forget that!” Tough as a biogen, she wiped the blood from her lips and shot daggers from her eyes at Priestess. “You can have your brat. But I’m going to keep your ring. And you keep mine. We don’t break our vows in the Legion. When we meet again I want to see that ring on your finger.” Then she whirled and dove into the briny water and she was gone.

  Chapter 9: Food of the Gods

  We rose into a dark dawn in our aircars, speeding north, facing a blue-black sky full of rainy grey clouds. The horizon tilted below us and rain spattered against the canopy. All of Beta was crowded into the aircar, and Taka warriors were squeezed into the aisle between the seats, their narrow faces streaked with sacrificial death paint, their crude edged weapons cutting into the padded fabric of the cabin’s ceiling. We were in litesuits and comtops. We no longer used the A-suits for scraps with the Taka. The bulky and heavy armor was more trouble than it was worth. We saved it for the exos. It was good, for exos. If it had been twice as bulky and heavy, we would have still used it for exos.

  It was a beautiful morning for an assault, cold and wet and grim. Lightning flashed to the east. We were flying over a great grey forest, laced in rain. I hugged my E closer to my body. Priestess was sitting beside me. The morning sun broke through the clouds suddenly and illuminated everything: a sky full of silver aircars, manbirds of pure, deadly beauty, slashing through sparkling showers of raindrops, glittering golden reflections from the sun.

  Deadeye was sharpening his stabbing spear with a flat, dark stone.

  Close your eyes and accept your fate. Valkyrie had come to me out of nowhere, an icy angel in the midst of Hell. I did nothing to deserve her. And then, in another world, I went down an evil tunnel to face my death and suddenly Priestess was there, out of nowhere. Both had come to me amidst pain and death. I loved them, but would it be the same if we were no longer fighting? Maybe we’re just desperate for life.

  The op was all planned. We’d learned where to find the Hand of God, the high priest of the Cult of the Dead. CAT 24 had been given the honor. We figured seven squads would bust the last stronghold of the Cult, and hopefully capture the genocidal lunatic who thought racial suicide an appropriate response to a crisis.

  The Cult operated out of a crumbling fortress called Stormport, located on the bleak, rocky coastline of the Northern Ocean. The Sunrealmers called the area the Cold Coast. It had once been the capital of a seafaring empire. Now it served as a refuge for cowards. Priests of ambition. Killers of children.

  As we neared our objective, Redhawk dropped the aircar suddenly and the earth rushed up wildly to meet us, then wobbled dizzily and leveled off. Now we sped over a wild barren wilderness of shattered grey granite. Ahead a fierce grey ocean hurled itself at the sheer stone cliffs, bursting into white spray.

  Suddenly we saw Stormport, a massive stone fortress built right into the cliff, a home for mighty Gods. It was a huge mound of rubble.

  “Faceplates down. Tac mode.” The target would soon be reeking with gas from our probes. Deadeye and the auxiliaries had breathers.
Breathers and death paint. The squad ZA was right in the heart of the fortress. The main courtyard was overgrown with wild grass and surrounded by great mounds of rubble. As we approached, waves exploded far below against a shoreline of giant boulders scattered like pebbles in the surf.

  Probes streaked and buzzed around the ruins.

  We reached the courtyard. “Beta-decar!” The assault doors snapped open. A wave of cold air and mist rushed in, and we leaped out.

  Strewn about the wet, roofless stone rooms were dozens of unconscious Soldiers of God, but their companions were on the run. The tacnet hissed with commands and comments.

  “Any sign of the High Priest?”

  “Not so far. Beta, see that group that’s moving to the north?”

  “Tenners, we’ll take ‘em.”

  “Thinker, take one auxiliary and neutralize the group by the port,” Snow Leopard said.

  “Tenners. I’ll take Deadeye.”

  “V-min or gas. Let’s not be shy.”

  Deadeye and I split off from the others and moved along a stone road at the bottom of another crumbling wall. I had gotten to know Deadeye very well. I had been on many long, exhausting patrols with him, and we had grown as close as possible for immortal and mortal to be. His tribal name was Standfast, and his every waking moment appeared to be devoted to the fight against the exosegs and the Soldiers of God; however, I’d been surprised when I discovered more in his head than the killing of his enemies.

  “I am your shield, Slayer.” Deadeye spoke in Taka, which I had absorbed thoroughly by now. Atom spun it magically around my brain every night, level upon level. She gave us no rest. She wanted us to be smarter.

  The stone road ran along the fortress side of the sea channel that led to the anchorage. I could see our targets up ahead on the tacmap. The ships had come in right here, I thought, through this narrow channel. The road was lined with deeply weathered statues, Taka soldiers, in full armor, facing the ship channel. Larger than life, their heads had all been lopped off by some nameless foe, leaving a long line of headless warriors standing against the winds of time. But when the statues were new, it must have been quite a sight for the sailors on those ships, strange ships from distant ports, full of exotic goods.

  In my comset, I could hear Snow Leopard pressing the attack. Beta ran into a deadly hail of missiles: stones, spiked balls of metal, tridents and spears. But the engagement would be over shortly. It was an unequal contest. For us it was just a mopping up operation, but for them it was the end of their world. They couldn’t win, no way at all. They knew it, and yet they would not quit. I had no sympathy for the Cult, but I admired people who would not quit.

  “Soldiers of God, Slayer!” Deadeye had his sling up and poised. The port lay ahead. We kept low, sprinting from statue to statue. The images of the Cultists appeared on my faceplate, seemingly unaware of our presence. Deadeye grinned at me, in his element. Waves crashed against the shore and covered us with frigid spray.

  Several Cultists moved up ahead. Deadeye had his loaded sling draped back over his shoulder, his sling arm cocked and trembling. Another wave boomed up ahead.

  “I see them, Slayer!” Deadeye spoke just as I saw them myself, two soldiers with spears, scrambling up the cliff from the water. Two more, according to my tacmap, still near the water.

  “They do not see us, Slayer, not yet. But they know we come. Tread softly.” We approached carefully, shoulder to shoulder now, crawling over wet slimy rock, great slabs of cut granite hiding us from the Scalers.

  “I’m going to fire gas,” I informed Deadeye. “Put on your breather.” Deadeye complied quickly. A Cultist suddenly appeared, climbing up out of the rubble by the shore, clambering up the hillside, followed closely by another.

  I aimed just between the two, and gently squeezed the trigger. Deadeye let loose with his slingshot simultaneously. The Cultists vanished in the shattering blast of the explosion and the great green cloud of gas that quickly formed. Rock chips ricocheted all around us.

  “Up above, Slayer! Shoot them!” A new group of Cultists had emerged from the rocks above us, throwing rocks and spears. A metal spike shattered the rock at my feet, striking sparks. I switched to v-min auto and sprayed the hillside above us. The rain of projectiles ceased.

  “Get these two.” I rushed forward, into the gas cloud.

  “Get!” Deadeye acknowledged, following close behind me. A painted form loomed in the green mist. I shot him in the face with a V bolt and his head snapped back, limbs flying. He rolled down the slope into the waves. His nose and mouth had been covered with cloth, to protect him from the gas. They were getting smarter.

  I saw Deadeye slip and slide down to the rocky shoreline, setting off an avalanche of loose rocks. The ground suddenly crumbled beneath my feet and I slid down a steep wet slope. The gas cloud thinned, and a great wave of black water burst into foam before me, filling the air with mist. Deadeye grappled with a Cultist, but it was over before I could help, and Deadeye released the corpse to slide down into the swirling water. Large rocks began tumbling down the slope above us.

  “Look, Slayer! Above!” The Cultists were positioning a broken length of column at the edge of the slope. If they succeeded, it would take out half the hillside. The gas swirled around in mad fitful circles, but it did not reach them. There were at least three of them up there. I switched to xmin auto. When the echoes ceased, the column was still balanced on the edge of the cliff, but there was no more movement from the Soldiers of God.

  Deadeye tugged on my arm, pointing into the water. The gas cloud had cleared. Waves burst into foam, spray hissing through the air. We could see clearly now. Not far from shore, a slab of rock jutted up from the waves. A pale, longhaired naked girl was manacled to a massive rusty metal ring set in the stone.

  She lay on her belly, unmoving and flat against the rock, one foot in the water. The waves burst against the rock, showering her, her hair, plastered to her skin.

  “Death’s gate!” I exclaimed.

  Deadeye spoke. “…a sacrifice, Slayer. She must be important. The Gods have her now.”

  “To Hell with the Gods! Hold my E.” I handed it to Deadeye, a court-martial offense.

  “Slayer, you cannot! The deep comes for her!” I dived into the frigid water. The shock almost stopped my heart. I surfaced, then struck out through the waves for the rock, just ahead. My left hand touched the rock-gritty, slime-covered stone. I pulled myself out of the water, freezing and numb. My hands tingled. She was breathing shallowly, eyes closed, her mouth open. A fragile, tender, lovely creature.

  Deadeye’s voice came floating to me, as if in a dream. “Slayer! The gortron! Tell me how to shoot the E!” A black whip snapped around my neck with explosive force and yanked me off my feet, back into the water. Something sticky wrapped itself around my comtop and ripped it off with tremendous force. A torrent of freezing water rushed in on me, a red roaring in my ears, I could not breathe, something curled around my neck. Can’t see. Which way is up! I raised my hands to claw at the viselike cord around my neck. Tough leathery spikes, cutting into my hands. I could not remove it.

  The strength seeped from my body. In moments I would die. Weapon, need a weapon! My hand went automatically to my hot knife, strapped to my thigh. I brought it up with numb hands and triggered it and slashed wildly around me. I could barely see the blue-white flame burning in the water. My knife met resistance, and I slashed into it with the last of my strength.

  Release. Sudden release, something ripping past my neck, gone. Air! Need air! Exhausted, buffeted by waves and still underwater, I saw the knife firmly in my right hand, burning at the edge of my vision. My shoulders slowly settled on a rock. A faint glow was above me. The surface! I struggled upwards. Gortron, Deadeye had said. What in Deadman’s name is a gortron?

  I surfaced in the foam of a wave breaking against the sacrificial rock, and flooded my lungs with pure, icy air. The girl was in the arms of the gortron. An obscene black tentacle slid over h
er body like a great water snake, a caress of death, leaving a faint trail of blood, then falling carelessly into the water. A spiky mass of wet black chitin broke the surface and a wave burst over the creature. Two horny whips snapped violently out of the water, trailing spray, cracking viciously on the girl’s naked back. Her body arched. She awoke. Another spiky tentacle snapped over her body, wrapping itself convulsively around her tiny waist. She looked into the eyes of the gortron and screamed.

  I made it to the rock and seized her by an ankle with my left hand. I had my mini out now, although my frozen fingers could barely feel it. I could see the gortron, black wet eyes atop two stiff stalks of chitin, calmly gazing at us. A heavy wave broke over me; I lost my grip and grabbed her by the hair. She struggled in blind panic. If the gortron pulled further, her arms would be torn out of their sockets because of the chains. From the corner of my eye, I saw Deadeye leap into the water, his breather discarded, a knife in one hand. A knife! We had never taught the Taka how to fire the E. It had not seemed like such a good idea, until now. For our mistrust, Deadeye offered his life.

  I released the girl’s hair and wrapped one arm around her neck. She screamed in panic, but I was not leaving her. A tentacle slapped onto my shoulder and snaked around my waist. The gortron rushed at us with the wave, streaming spray, its spiky beak opening to reveal a frightening maw lined with razor-sharp teeth. I aimed the mini directly into it, and fired.

  The laser burst lanced through the gortron. I kept the trigger depressed, slashing the laser up and down like a whip, the beam shrieking raw white-hot pulsating energy. The gortron exploded like a punctured balloon, splattering awful green gore all over us, severed tentacles whipping wildly through the air.

  Deadeye rode into the mess on a wave, shrieking, slashing his knife blindly. The gortron became a thrashing whirlpool of uncontrolled nerve endings, tentacles whipping down into the waves. I ceased fire. I still had the girl by the throat. She choked, convulsing. I loosened my grip.