by George Olney
She had the grace to blush. "Yes, Legate. All right, I suppose you have me. Will I be fit for polite company after you finish?"
"Very fit, Shana," he replied. "But you will take something of us away with you. That's not why I asked you here this afternoon."
"Ordered."
That produced a slight smile. "Ordered. I wanted to talk politics with you. Some things will be a bit clearer to you after we talk, I hope."
The recruit was gone and the reporter back, now. "I'm waiting."
The Legate leaned forward and put his elbows on his desk, clasping his hands. "Sim Ettranty, I will be blunt. I've never seen a planetary culture so corrupt as Cauldwell."
She was wide eyed at that, but before she could gasp out her outrage, he bored mercilessly on, his voice flat. "You have a Planetary Guidance Council that exists only to serve itself and the plans of the Empire, a Parliament that only does housekeeping and remains perfectly docile otherwise, a military that kills citizens in wholesale lots when ordered, and a general population that couldn't care less."
She opened her mouth to hotly deny it, then stopped, putting together some of the things her father had said, Adam's attitudes, the Legate's unfortunately accurate description of Parliament, and some well-hidden thoughts about the Guard. She also remembered her blasé attitude about all of that from only a few weeks earlier. Instead, she thought hard for a few silent moments and commented, "I'm not sure Imin had an alternative, Legate."
The Legate looked her dead in the eye. "He might not have thought he did, but the Council gave orders and he followed them. The Wareegans aren't all that difficult to kill, Shana, even with the Guard's equipment. We've been teaching them how to do it for some time now."
Somehow that didn't surprise her.
"The Council knows nothing about our training program, simply because they don't care," he said. "And Imin Webster hasn't seen fit to tell them."
That didn't surprise her either.
After a moment, she realized her father and his cronies were beginning to leave a bad taste in her mouth. That couldn't be right, she thought to herself. He was her father! A merciless little voice of honesty took that moment to remind her of all of the growing differences she was having with him. That gave rise to a number of unpleasant thoughts.
She decided to change the subject a little. "That's twice you've said my father was in touch with the Empire."
The Legate nodded. "And he is. Regularly. Enough that Corps Intelligence knows all about Cauldwell. We didn't come here by accident. We knew all about this planet and it seemed like the best refuge."
He snorted. "Refuge! Do you know what Cauldwell is, Sim Ettranty? Cauldwell has tremendous unused and undeveloped resources. All it ostensibly lacks is the up to date mining and manufacturing equipment to exploit those resources, not to mention up to date shipping. Shipping and equipment, including modern warships, such as are hidden in camouflaged depots all over this planet. That equipment and those ships aren't touched, Sim Ettranty, because they are for a very specific purpose, as are the population of human cattle that are kept docile and decadent for the same reason."
"Cauldwell," he finished, "is the Emperor's designated refuge in case of overthrow, and has been for well over two centuries. The only reason you've never seen any of this is the previous five Emperors either died naturally or were killed before they could get here. Shangnaman hopes to break that trend. I doubt if he will."
He looked at her amazed face for a few seconds. "It really won't matter to the population of Cauldwell, Sim Ettranty, whatever happens. Unless someone changes the situation."
Shana wasn't a political innocent, not in her job. She was also a good judge of truth when she heard it. She was hearing it now and, Lord Above triple damn him, the Legate was saying something that made horrible sense. "You know this? And you are the ones that will change our lives? The saviors?"
The Legate snorted. "Saviors? Hardly, not in today's Empire. All anyone can do is hold on to any stability possible because the Empire is falling apart at the seams. We'd best hope the Emperor never does show up here, because a hostile battle fleet will probably be right behind him.
"Corps Intelligence had full information on Cauldwell fifty years ago. We knew everything about a number of situations, it seems, except the Emperor's plans for us. Purblind to that, many of us died. Others may still die. I have no idea what is happening to other legions, because I've had no contact for months, except for a tachyon data packet from a surviving scout of the IIX Legion, literally just before things blew up for us. I was on that exercise I told you about when I got it. He told me what had happened to his legion. I assume he died shortly after he launched his warning.
"It was addressed to every Commander and Legate in the Corps," Corona added dryly. "I can only hope the others got their notifications in time. Given the fact the man was in the middle of combat at the time, I'm not sure how many he was able to send out and I'm also unsure how many actually were received. I only know I got his warning barely in time to save what I did.
"This particular plot of Shangnaman's seems to be working, Shana. We may be the only legion left in the Corps... And we aren't whole.
"In any case," he said, leaning back in his chair, "the question becomes what you - and I - are going to do about Cauldwell's situation. Frankly, I intend to do nothing until the Wareegans are dealt with, and I suggest you keep your mouth shut until then also."
She gave him a piercing look. "You must be very sure of me," she said coldly.
The Legate nodded. "You would be surprised to know what we found out about you. You are independent, intelligent, and used to moving in the highest circles. You are also unusually trustworthy for a citizen of Cauldwell as well as a realist. I don't expect you to be on my side, but I know you'll keep your mouth shut until you deem it the right time, and I trust your judgment about that time. In any case, my invitation to you would have been different if our background investigation had turned out negative."
There was more to the conversation, but the Legate's thermonuclear bomb preoccupied her thinking. She decided to take a meal in the Legionnaire Mess and sleep over in her quarters, as she normally did now. She had no desire to meet her father or Imin until she could digest what she'd been told.
She caught herself at the mental plans she was making. Mess and quarters? She was thinking like a member of the Corps. She suspected that was another reason Legate Corona trusted her with his information about Cauldwell. Maybe the primary one.
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The next morning was more weapons drill. After learning a few moves, the recruits were introduced to sparring, which was more fun. After working with each other for a while, they were taken to the training pit.
Their opponents for the next stage were manlike robots covered in a doughy flesh-like substance for some reason. Dull steel bladed axes were given to the boys and Shana had a steel training dagger, while the robots were using wooden short swords. "The golems are standard drill equipment," the instructor told them, "Everyone uses them, but we've stepped down their reactions and speed for you. Remember, the object here is for you to learn, and a blow from a wooden weapon is a pretty good teacher. You'll each take on a golem down in the training pit. Each recruit will be given a realistic training situation to solve on their own.
"Remember this: YOU MUST SOLVE IT BY YOURSELF! NO HELP! I've got punishment tours waiting for anyone that disobeys.
"Ready? Novak, you first. Get down there!"
The training pit was actually a miniature version of an old Roman stadium, with a sunken sand floor beneath surrounding stands and a raised wall about two measures high circling the floor. The other four recruits stood in the stands and cheered on their squad mate while Novak, who looked to be about fourteen to Shana's estimation, jumped down to circle and spar with the golem. He had more ease and grace with his weapon than Shana was sure she was going to show. Still, she was excited about getting her chance. Hm, she thought, this would make a good segment for a repo
rt. Maybe she could get a crew here another time and get footage of herself fighting a golem.
Her newly informed self brought that idea to a screeching halt. Until she knew what was actually happening on Cauldwell - and what the Legate was actually trying to do - revealing anything about her own abilities was not a good thing. Better innocent shots of Gladii on training exercises and such. Right now, nobody needed to know what she was really learning or about her own rapidly developing abilities. And a careful eye had to be kept on Corona.
She was brought out of her brown study as three more golems came trundling out from a door in the pit's side wall. Novak was suddenly one against four.
She didn't think. She jumped into the pit and her squad mates were right behind her. She landed just behind one of the golems. The spurting blood and high squeal of pain when she drove her dagger into its back, right in the spot she'd been drilled to use, threw her off for a second, the horror of what she'd done hitting her. A swipe from a wooden sword that just missed her head brought her back with a rush and she helped kill the other robots, full of an adrenaline rush at her victory over the first one.
After a few seconds, the recruits were standing in the pits, the golems realistically dead at their feet. All of them were in a daze and a bit shaken, experiencing a mixture of elation at their victory - and nausea. Every golem had bled and made dying noises. Shana looked at Novak and could see the shocked expression of a boy that felt he'd killed someone, no matter what his mind told him. She suspected her face looked the same. Same queasy stomach, too.
"Attention!" All five snapped to.
"Good work, recruits." Howard dropped down into the pit with them. "You've learned an important lesson, all of you. Never abandon a mate in trouble, no matter what. No matter what anyone says, no matter what happens, you don't abandon a mate."
His voice grew softer. "Also... welcome to the world of the Gladius. Killing. And it isn't pretty. It's messy, bloody and damned disgusting. A golem is set up to emphasize reality, recruits. On purpose. Killing is our ancestral trade and we're good at it. Better than anyone else. Why? Because we were born to the job and it's a job needs doing. Always remember you're fighting and killing because someone else is in danger. That's why we exist - to protect citizens. Citizens may never know it. They may never care. They may be scared shitless of you or stupid enough to hate you. But we do it. We do it because if we didn't, some poor bastard would be looking at a damned bad day. We pay the Gladius Price because innocent people shouldn't. More to the point, you're being trained so that you won't pay the Gladius Price the first time you face some asshole that thinks it's fun to kill people."
His voice grew softer. "We're the Guards at the Gates of Hell. That's in the oath you'll swear when you join the Victrix as a trained Gladius. We mean that... and we've meant it for a thousand years."
He kicked a downed golem, lying in a pool of blood at his feet, and grinned a vicious wolfish grin at them. "That's why the bastards this thing represents shit their pants or whatever they're wearing when they see us coming, recruits. And you're going to be just as scary, trust me. "The Predator can come after us, people, if he's stupid or ignorant or determined enough. We'll be happy to take him on, every time. And we'll win. That's what it means to be a Gladius. We're the best soldiers in history. The best soldiers in the Universe. We're the Lord Above's and humankind's answer to the Predator.
"Okay, get out of the pit and form up outside. I've got something else to say."
Outside the wall, Howard faced a line of recruits as rigid as statues. "There's a formation in two hours. You're dismissed to quarters to clean up and put on a fresh uniform. Novak, Callen, Legnt, and Bratz, return to your units after changing. Ettranty, you report to the Sergeant Major. Dismissed."
Trotting back to her quarters, Shana thought about Howard and what he said in the pit. The mask was off. What she'd sensed the first time she'd seen a Gladius was now suddenly bare for the world to see. Yet... Yet, she was now a part of it. She'd killed an enemy - just a golem, but an enemy - to protect a comrade she didn't really know. This was stupid! She wasn't a killer! She wasn't a soldier! She was a reporter working on a story, for Lord Above's sake!
Yet... Yet, she was now a part of it. Something strange had happened to her. Something she didn't plan on when she decided to undergo recruit training on a lark. She'd passed another test today, of some kind. Gladii talked about not wanting to kill, but would jump on an enemy they regarded as the Predator with professional expertise and complete willingness. Lord Above help her, she was beginning to understand that! She was thinking like a Gladius, and that was more than a bit frightening.
So what did that make her and where was she headed? Was she going to be the same person after she finished training? Somehow, she didn't think so, but the Victrix had changed her enough that she was going to finish training. Her fear of Gladii was gone, too, now that she was on the inside. Their grim and unemotional facade was just that, a facade. Once she got to know the troopers, they were simply men, with joys, sorrows, and a real sense of humor. She hadn't spoken anything inside the compound but Copio for weeks, and the troopers around her spoke it just as informally as she normally spoke Unispek. They were simply less outwardly expressive than the normal run of humanity, but emotions were there to see once she got accustomed to the lack of major cues.
The Gladius love of music and dance intrigued her. Singing and music were everywhere in camp and the number of hardened troopers that played instruments surprised her once she started noticing. Dancing wasn't the type she was familiar with, either. Single men and groups in the various clubs often danced to pickup bands, dances like she used to see on the stage, but very different in style and content. Gladius male dances were very masculine, especially the one that consisted of military formations from the ancient past. Good material for one of her stories.
What she didn't show in the story was the impression she'd gotten the men's dancing was a counterpart to women's dancing and the sadness because the legion thought it would never see women dance again. Certainly she couldn't sing or dance! Not like the dances she saw in the Legionnaires Club! More food for thought.
She regarded Gladii as pretty good people, all in all. Good to be with.
Her friends wouldn't understand. Her father wouldn't understand either. Screw them and especially him! She was becoming a part of something that protected people, something that made a difference. That was a pretty good calling. She wanted more than a taste of it. The calling came with a price, and she decided it was one worth paying. Good enough. Time to get changed.
The Sergeant Major looked her over carefully when she found him near the parade ground. She wasn't worried at the inspection. She was wearing a new, freshly pressed uniform from her closet and her gig line was straight.
He nodded with seeming reluctance at her appearance, then commented, "Good enough, I suppose. Girl, you're about to witness an integration formation. It's something we do to rebuild a shattered unit, and it's not often done. All you have to do is stand where I tell you and bear witness. Salute the legion's Sunburst when it passes, other than that, watch and do nothing. I'll be nearby, but keep silent until it's over. Understand?"
Shana took the position she was shown. She was fairly bursting with reporter's curiosity, but kept patiently silent. She would find out in time what was happening.
The band started playing music with the slow heavy marching beat of the Corps and the legion marched onto the field, each man holding his ax with its head cradled on his right shoulder, edge to the right. Shana stared, because the formations weren't compact. There were gaps in the first three cohorts and behind those scattered men marched out, so separated from the rest they were almost totally by themselves. The band continued to play marching music long after the men were on the field, but the rest stood in formation on the far side of the field, facing where she was standing, with the Legate and his staff (some of them, there were gaps there too) in the very center of the field
halfway between her and the troop units. The formation was unbalanced because there were plenty of men to the Legate's right, but the field to his left had only oddly placed Gladii and nobody at all in a large area on his extreme left.
When she saw the Sunburst fall in directly behind the Legate, she wondered if she ought to salute. She must have made some kind of motion, because the Sergeant Major growled softly, "Not yet, girl. I'll tell you when."
The Legate did an about face, scanned the troop line, and commanded, "GIVE your commands parade res-s-s-s-t-t-t-t... Ho!"
He faced each cohort in turn as their commanders echoed his order. Shana got a spooky feeling as he looked past the units with commanders to those sparsely placed men, who responded as though a commander had given the order, then did the same at specific locations on the empty portion of the field.
Marching music began as a carryall was driven in front of Legate Corona and he got in, standing in front of his seat as the carryall started to drive along the troop line. They started at the band on the formation's far left, then progressed slowly towards the right. Commands of "Attention-n-n-n-n... Ho!" then "PRESENT Arms-s-s-s... Ho!" followed his progress and the Legate saluted each cohort, each man at attention with his ax head, blade outward, in front of his face, with his own ax as he passed. When he got to the widely separated men, they reacted as though the orders had been given and their weapon salute was returned. As he rode down the empty stretch of the parade field, he did the same, as though there were units present.
Shana suddenly found a lump in her throat as she realized what was happening. Each of those Gladii on the field was in their assigned place on the day before the attack, the attack that gutted the Victrix. Those empty spaces were empty because the men assigned them were now dead. The bare space on the parade ground was where the women of the Legion's Support Command once stood in the formation and they, too, were getting a salute. The remaining legion was arrayed on the field as it was when it was intact.
