The man looked up, and examined Coolhand and me in turn. “We served together since Basic. From the same world. It was like family to me. They killed it when they came after it. It must have tried to resist. Brandon was a hothead. They killed its wife and kids too. Just blew them away, and tore the place apart looking for the data. Probably the SIS. But they didn’t find it, because it wasn’t there. That was two days ago. Brandon wanted to give it to the Legion. We stopped believing long ago.” The girl held the baby close to her, moaning sadly.
“Tinlan knew its wife, of course. We were very close. The only reason we’re not dead is the System doesn’t know where we are. But they’ll get us, we imagine, in a day or so. We deserted the same day they killed Brandon. Deserters don’t last long here, not even in Old Town.”
The baby gurgled, giving Priestess a big smile, waving his hands. His mother was quiet, her eyes closed. It was all over for them.
“We don’t have much time,” Coolhand repeated. “What is it you wanted to give us?”
Tharos Cyprio got up and rooted around in a pile of junk. He came back with a minicard, and handed it to Coolhand. “That’s done,” he said. “Done. It’s what Brandon wanted. It’s our death, and Tinlan is against it, but we have to do it. We have to. Does it understand?”
“I understand,” Coolhand said. “What’s in the card?”
“It’s a list of ships,” Tharos replied. “Over seventy of them, mostly star carriers. They all called at Coldmark, and they all left on classified missions. That’s what ‘CM’ means. Cit will see it on the readout. Over seventy of them, with full crews. And Cit will see the dates. The earliest are dated right after the Outvac Wars, long before we were born. The mission has been running for close to a hundred stellar years. Many of the ships never come back. But some of them do, from time to time. They leave with full crews, but they return with minimum hands, and stay in distant orbit, and nobody ever goes downside, and all commo is down. Then they take on new crew, and leave again. Ghost ships. A ghost fleet! That’s what Brandon wanted to tell the Legion. A ghost mission, for a hundred years. Generations of officers and men, disappearing into the vac. Countless ships and men, swallowed up by this endless, ghost mission. It’s something important, it said, and something evil. Those were Brandon’s words-’something evil’. We think it knew more than it told us. It wanted to tell the Legion itself, but it can’t. So that’s it, the list it gave us, and that’s all it is, a list of ship’s names, and we hope it helps Cit. Now Cit had better leave.”
He sat down wearily, drained. “We’re sorry, Tinlan,” he said to his wife. “We’re sorry.” She did not reply. She cried again, quietly, holding the baby to her bosom.
Coolhand slipped the card into a pocket. “Thank you,” he said. “The Legion thanks you.” He handed something to the man. Tharos Cyprio looked at the credmark in his hand. It was Legion gold, a flaming Legion cross on one side and the Goddess of Liberty on the other, and after the credits were exhausted, it could be sold for the gold. It would change their lives forever, in that rat world. It would buy them years of comfort and security.
Tharos Cyprio slapped the credmark back into Coolhand’s hand. “We don’t want its money! We did this for Brandon! We did this for ourself! We’re doomed, and Legion money isn’t going to change anything! Go! Go in peace. And use the information to bring down the System. Bring it down, does it hear us? Bring it down!” He was losing control.
“Movement,” Warhound said, guarding the door, looking down the corridor. His jaw muscles clenched. Warhound was as solid as a rock. I knew we didn’t have to worry about the corridor.
Coolhand passed the credmark surreptitiously to me and I slipped it to Priestess. We were pretty sure his wife would take it; women are always more practical than men. But Priestess did not pass it on to her. Priestess latched on to Coolhand’s arm.
“You’re not going to leave them here?” she hissed at him in astonishment.
“We don’t have any choice, Priestess,” Coolhand whispered back. “We can’t let the Systies know we have this info. We can’t touch him. The best thing we can do is get out fast, to protect them. Thinker, call in the aircar.”
I raised the comset. “Tango, Redstar. Your package is ready.”
The answer came immediately. “Redstar, Tango. Confirm.”
“You haven’t been listening, Coolhand!” Priestess snapped back. “They’re after him already! When they catch up, they’ll find out everything! All they have to do is follow the bodies and go in the door that’s got the Legion trademark on it. This hasn’t exactly been a covert mission! Wake up, Coolhand! They helped us! And they’re dead unless we help them! And the System finds out either way! At least if we take them with us, the System doesn’t know what he passed on to us. If we don’t, they do!”
Warhound fired, auto V, and the thunder echoed down the halls.
“Decision time,” I declared.
“They’re Outworlders,” Priestess added, her final argument.
Coolhand paused only for an instant. “We’ll take them. Let’s go!”
“Come with us!” Priestess shouted. Tharos Cyprio raised his head, mouth open. Tinlan whimpered, and scrambled to her feet with the baby. She made a move to get something from the floor.
“No time for that,” I said. “We leave now! Let’s go! Priestess, escort them!”
Warhound fired again. “It’s just locals,” he shouted. “Follow me!” He proceeded down the hall, past bodies sprawled by the stairs, Coldmarker civilians, out cold. They looked like tough customers.
We scrambled down the stairs and the Coldmarker I had shot was still unconscious, slumped against the wall. We burst out into the street, guns up, and the cold hit me like a hammer. I could see my breath frosty in the air.
“Faster!” We ran down a dark alley, heading for the rendezvous with the aircar. Coolhand and me first, then Warhound and Priestess and Cyprio and Tinlan and the baby. The night sky suddenly lit up, lightning crackling everywhere. Deceptors! The Legion was with us! We charged around a corner and past the familiar group of beggars still huddled around their little fire.
“Priestess! What are you doing?” She had skidded to a halt by the beggars, and pressed something into the hand of the old lady. Then she broke away and rejoined us, into the shadows. An aircar flashed overhead, right over the tops of the buildings.
“Got you in sight, Tango!”
“Where the devil are you?”
“Land, Tango! We’re on the way!” We exited an alley into another narrow street. A gleaming Legion aircar hovered there, sleek and beautiful, the plex shining like black diamonds, a blizzard of trash and dust whirling all around it.
The assault doors popped open and Snow Leopard leaned out with an E, his blonde hair rippling in the breeze, with Psycho right beside him, his Manlink at his shoulder, scoping out the streets. Merlin and Dragon grabbed on to us as we piled in, and Tharos Cyprio, his wife and baby were lifted bodily into the car.
“Go!”
Redhawk shook his shaggy head and gave us a twisted grin and rocketed the aircar up into the flashing night. They would never get us now!
Priestess fell into my arms, her face shining with emotion. “We did it! We did it! They’re free! We did it, Thinker!”
I laughed. “No, Priestess, you did it! It’s you they should thank. What did you give that old lady?”
“I gave her the credmark, Thinker. Legion gold, for the poor of the System! We did it, Thinker! I feel wonderful!” She trembled with emotion. I held her tightly.
“You’re amazing, Priestess. You’re really amazing! You want to personally save the entire galaxy, don’t you?”
“I just want to help,” she replied. “I just want to help!”
Chapter 16:
Dead and Gone
“Go right in, Citizen. The Captain will see it now.” The exec of the Personal Ship Maiden was a slim, attractive female with wispy blonde hair, clad in the ship’s phospho violet uniform
and carrying a shockrod. The door slid shut behind me as I stepped into the cabin, leaving the exec outside.
It was a mystery to me why Snow Leopard had ordered me to visit this slave ship-he gave no explanation other than a cryptic order that under no circumstances was I to be surprised by anything I saw. That, and an official invitation from the ship’s captain for a representative of the Spawn to visit the ship. I knew it meant trouble. The Maiden was orbiting Coldmark and the natives evidently wanted the cargo badly. Coldmarkers filled the corridors, bidding for slaves and sampling the merchandise. It made me nervous-the Legion’s role was to kill slavers, not sample their obscene hospitality. I wore civvies at the Legion’s insistence and was glad of it.
Her face a rigid mask, the captain sat on the edge of her desk dressed in dark violet, waves of auburn hair gleaming in low light, exotic Assidic eyes blinking like a caged beast. High cheekbones, a narrow, delicate nose, a wide mouth, and pale brown velvet skin. She was a vision from another world, all the secret memories of the vanished past. I stopped, stunned. Tara! She came to me in my dreams, sometimes, but I had tried hard to forget her. Priestess had made the process easier.
“It is…Beta Three? Of the ConFree Legion?” She spoke in the Systie dialect with a flawless accent, yet it was still her voice. A hard voice, as cold as the vac. Her eyes glinted with a resolve as unbreakable as Atom’s keel. She knew perfectly well who I was! And why the accent? Then it hit me, and it nearly knocked me off my feet. I could see it all right there in her eyes, everything that had happened to her since she’d vanished from my life. A psycher! The legion had trained her and flung her into the deep. Of course! Deadman! Tara is a Legion asset! How long must it have taken her to rise through the ranks of these degenerate slavers and gain their trust? How long for her to make her way to the top-how many throats cut and how many risks taken? How many hopeless slaves delivered to their doom?
Get a grip, Thinker! Watch your words-the Systies have probably got this room wired!
I swallowed hard, “That’s right,” I replied warily. “And you?” I could hardly believe it! The cabin gleamed with rare woods and stones, but I did not take it in. I could only stare, transfixed by this vision from the past. I had thought I’d love her forever. What in Deadman’s name is she doing here? How has she changed? What must it be like for her? How can she survive, alone?
I had Beta and the Legion to back me up. What did Tara have?
She smiled softly. “We command the PS Maiden. Cintana Tamaling, at its service. Please call us Cinta.”
“Ah.” I stalled for time, trying desperately to figure out how to keep us both alive in this perilous situation. “You’re the commander of the Maiden? You’re the captain? Sorry, I’m not familiar with your uniforms.”
She laughed, a little-girl laugh of pure delight, though her eyes did not soften. “That’s right, Beta Three!”
“You’re a slaver?” I asked stupidly. What am I supposed to do here, Tara?
“That’s what the Maiden does, soldier-exotic flesh, from distant ports-evil cargo for evil stars-children and virgins, fresh flesh for decaying mortals. Youth, for wealth-new hope for the dead! Eternal pleasure, love and hope and happiness for sale-yes, we’re in the happiness business! But Cintana Tamaling is not just a slaver-we’re the best slaver in the galaxy! There’s a price on our head that would buy a small world. Would it cut off our head, and present it to the Legion? Think twice first-we can double their price, easily!”
I know you’re a psycher, Tara, I know you can read my thoughts. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you got in so deep. Did you ever dream you would live this long? Did you ever expect to rise this high? I understand-the longer you are in, the more valuable you become-to both sides.
I knew we were in very deep waters. She must be risking her life, just talking with me. “What do you want from me, Cintana Tamaling?” I almost whispered it. I didn’t know what I was getting into when I joined the Legion and I was certain that Tara never expected to last this long without being discovered. I sensed a great weariness behind those cold, hard eyes. And suddenly I wanted to seize her, to tear her away from her nightmare and spirit her off to some Legion world where she could live a quiet life. I resisted the impulse. What would I know of a quiet life? Tara was in it a lot deeper than I, and there was nothing at all I could do to help her. She held up a minicard, looking right into my eyes, and slid it wordlessly over the surface of the desk to me. I picked it up.
“A memento,” she said, “of the PS Maiden. Please understand-we view this as a rare opportunity to show the Legion that we’re not monsters. Here in the System, Voluntary Servitude is encouraged and appreciated-it’s a civic duty. We hope the visit was enjoyable. Perhaps it had best leave now-before our other visitors discover we have a Legion guest! Give our best wishes to the Legion. Tell them all are welcome.”
Tara, I know you are trapped here and you will stay as long as you can. You know how I feel about you. I want you to remember one thing. The Legion doesn’t forget its own. When the time comes, the Legion will find you, we will kill these subhuman slavers and you can go home!
Another sad smile-almost like a saint. Those smoky eyes met mine and she nodded, ever so slightly. I saw a lot in those eyes-grief, pain, anger, and icy self-control. It was clear she could say nothing-and neither could I. It only remained to bid farewell.
“Goodbye…Cinta.” I made the sign of the Legion, tracing it in the air. Her lovely face shone with love, and fate, and tragedy. I would never forget it.
Chapter 17: The Space Between the Stars
A starport, they say? On Andrion 3! How could we have missed it? Let me see the location!” I could tell Lowdrop was unhappy. Cubes had just sent the data from the Spawn, and I had received it on Val’s starlink and passed it to him. Now we were in Lowdrop’s cube. I popped it into the link again and called up the data. The screen revealed a great volcano, a jagged glittering cone spewing forth a wide river of bubbling lava pooling into a slow-moving lake of molten rock.
“What the devil is that?” Lowdrop asked quietly.
Val answered. “Lava, Sir. A lava lake. That’s the starport! The Indigo Frost data from the Galleon zeroed this site. That’s the data that agent Indigo Frost passed to Thinker. It contained the navlog for the SS Galleon, one of the ships that had hardlaunched from the Systie Base on Andrion 2. A starport, sir. Under the lava. Hidden!”
Nobody told me anything, but I realized that Indigo Frost was their asset, Tara. I swallowed hard. So this is what Tara had risked her cover to give me.
Val continued, “It’s a shield volcano, sir. The lava is low viscosity, free flowing. It flows over the crater edge and into this basin to form the lake, then continues down the slope here. And the port is in the lake! This is a major, covert, strategic installation! Larger than the unitium port on Andrion 2. And the earlier 24 Beta info from the Coldmark Port officer-the ships list-means that they’ve been doing this for a hundred years!” Val was excited; his eyes gleamed.
Lowdrop studied the images for some time, then spoke. “Fine! You’re saying there’s a starport under the lava. How could they do that? What does Command say?”
“They don’t know how the Systies did it.”
“This is lunacy! How could they do it? Could the Legion even do this?”
“It’s very doubtful. The text of the report says it’s crazy. It would be very difficult. Maybe impossible. It would be prohibitively expensive, even if the Legion could. The Systies’re gambling that the lava will continue to flow as it’s been doing. If it slows, and solidifies, they’ll be in big trouble.”
“Deadman’s Death! Two starports! Why would they need two starports? What is on Andrion 3? Has Cubes sent this to Starcom? To ConFree? To Fleetcom?”
“Yes, Sir. They sent all the data. Indigo Frost’s, and the ship’s list from the Systie.”
“Damn!” Neither officer was happy. They knew a huge, critical piece of the puzzle was still missing. They probably knew more t
han I did, but I sure didn’t understand about the base on Andrion 3. I knew from experience that things that were not understandable could be extremely dangerous. And I believed that the Legion would attack the base as soon as possible, no matter what. It was terrifying that the System appeared capable of doing something that the Legion could not. This type of situation could start another interstellar war. I hoped that Fleetcom or Starcom would have an explanation for the base. Otherwise we would have to risk the entire expeditionary force, taking on the unknown.
I hated the unknown. I viewed it as the worst of all enemies.
“The unprovoked, naked aggression of bandit Legion forces against a peaceful civilian USICOM settlement in the Neutral Zone is a cause of grave concern to the inhabitants of all peace-loving worlds in the galaxy. By planning and carrying out this cowardly and brutal atrocity against unarmed civilians…” The large, formidable Systie female trembled with righteous indignation. A squat little Orman male whispered into her ear and shifted papers around nervously. Two young and upright USICOM diplomats, Outworlders, clothed in USICOM’s powder blue, gazed at her approvingly. They were a matched couple, male and female, both with completely shaven heads. The shaven heads expressed their opposition to Outworlder aggression, their solidarity with the Mocain, and their servitude to the System. As a professional diplomat and an Outworlder, the male would have been voluntarily neutered-castrated-upon entry into the service.
Nearby a muscular, bald Mocain officer gazed into space, evidently bored by the proceedings. A Mocain female with short, military-cut hair sat next to him, ignoring another Orman eagerly proffering some advice. The giant from Picos had reappeared, as had the Orman psycher. She appeared excruciatingly bored this time, tracing invisible patterns on the table with her lightpen. I watched the show from a Legion monitor that covered our side. They wouldn’t let me sit in this time because of my mission to see Tara. The speaker droned on. My eyes were starting to glaze over already.
Soldier of the Legion sotl-1 Page 24
