by B. V. Larson
By the end of a very long day, I had a uniform issued to me and I was told Natasha had driven up from Waycross to pick me up. There were mumbled curses from the Hegemony people at the Atlanta Station as I was discharged from custody. I accepted their irritable behavior magnanimously and left in high spirits.
Natasha and I left the building as soon as we could get away. But at the exit door—which was powered, barred, and crisscrossed with wired glass—we were met by three familiar faces. I drew myself up and stiffened, but they held their hands high, palms out, in an apologetic gesture.
“Look, McGill…” began the skinny, balding Specialist. For the first time, I noticed his name was Turner. I hadn’t bothered to read his name badge while he was assaulting me in my home.
“Look,” he repeated, “I’m—we’re all here to say we’re sorry. For what that’s worth. We don’t know what went wrong at your place. But I think we can all agree that we’ve paid a price for it—whatever happened.”
I stood stock-still, enjoying their discomfit for several seconds.
“I can accept your apology, Turner,” I said finally. I turned to Natasha. “As to pressing charges, only Natasha here knows what really happened to her. She was assaulted as I understand it.”
Natasha locked eyes with me for a second then turned to the three men in question. She drew in a breath and spoke. “I hope you gentlemen understand we’re all legionnaires. We shouldn’t let our petty rivalries pull us apart. We all serve the same world in the end.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the fat guy eagerly. “We’re really sorry for…for anything we did.”
“You paid a horrid price,” she said, looking at each of them with pity in her eyes. “You all died screaming. Turner, you even shit yourself at the end.”
Turner’s eyes narrowed making him look even less pleasant than usual. The other two fidgeted with their hats.
“Under the circumstances, I won’t press charges,” Natasha said finally.
They were all visibly relieved.
“Thank you, ma’am,” fat boy said. “And for the record, I don’t understand how this all could have gotten so out of—”
Natasha put up a hand, and they stopped talking instantly. “Try to control yourselves in the future,” she advised, and we pressed past them.
I held my laughter until we reached her car. Natasha started up the car with a thrum and we glided through the city. My belly hurt I laughed so hard. I finally noticed she wasn’t in as good of a mood as I was.
“Hey,” I said, looking around. “Shouldn’t we hit the auto-road? It’s a faster way out of town.”
“We aren’t leaving town,” she told me. “Official orders have come in—orders from Varus. You and I are to report to the local Chapter House.”
“Great.”
I tapped at my tapper, and my amusement died completely. Whoever had ordered my arrest had given up on having the local Hogs do it. They’d contacted my superiors this time. I was indeed ordered to report immediately to the Atlanta Chapter House.
For each of Earth’s Legions, there were both Mustering Halls and Chapter Houses dirt-side. The rest of our organization existed up in space, usually in the form of a large ship that served to transport troops to their assigned worlds.
Mustering Halls were big buildings constructed in the largest cities, usually one Hall per Sector. They handled recruitment and operated as ready-stations for off-world missions. The major difference between a Mustering Hall and a Chapter House was in scale and scope. Chapter Houses were local sales outlets—a few veterans were posted there performing local recruitment for a single legion. The Mustering Halls were much bigger and were shared facilities used by all the legions.
I’d only been to the Atlanta Chapter House twice. Once was when I’d been thinking about joining up. The second time was to file my change of address info when I’d moved to Waycross. It was a dingy little place, and I wasn’t looking forward to my third visit.
My legion’s Chapter House wasn’t much to look at. From the outside, it could have been a shoe store or one of those places that sells secondhand electronic goods from off-world. There was a row of similar Chapter Houses repping various legions. There were about fifteen in all that recruited locally and served the retired membership. Apparently a lot of my brothers and sisters came from the southern states, and this office functioned as a hub for them.
Natasha and I had suited up by the time we arrived. Smart clothing is great that way. You can dress in your car if you want to. All you have to do is wrap the cloth over yourself and wriggle a bit to let it worm its way around your butt and behind your back.
“What’s our story?” Natasha asked me as she parked.
I eyed her worriedly. I felt confident I could bullshit my way past anything that was asked of us, but Natasha was a straight-shooter. She’d done all right against the Hogs as she didn’t respect them, but with real Legion Varus people I knew it would be different for her. She liked telling the truth and doing as she was told when legit authority was involved. She’d helped me out back home and taken things way out on a limb. But I didn’t trust her here. She’d crack under real pressure from one of our direct commanders.
“Uh…story?” I asked. “We’ve already got it down. Some goons came to the door, there was a struggle when they didn’t identify themselves, and things went badly. Don’t change even the slightest detail.”
She looked worried, and she put a hand on the car door. The panel recognized her touch, flashed a colored light and the lock clicked open.
“Hey,” I said, reaching over and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”
“You murdered three men who someone sent to arrest you, James,” she said with a tight look on her face.
“Yeah, well…they deserved it.”
“I agree, but what if Graves is in that building? What if he’s a little smarter than that Hog team? He’ll know what happened. He knows us. He knows you.”
“Graves won’t give a shit if I got into it with a few Hogs.”
Natasha sighed and rolled her eyes at me briefly. I got that sort of response often, especially from women.
She climbed out, adjusted her uniform so it fit properly, and straightened her spine. I did the same, placing my beret on my head and tilting it at an appropriate angle. The smart uniforms worked to transform themselves into a crisp arrangement by crawling over our bodies.
I led the way to the door, pushed it open, and stepped inside. At the front desk I got my first surprise. I recognized the man who sat there. He was a rat-faced guy with close-cropped hair that glistened with additives. His name was Winslade and he was Primus Turov’s chief weasel.
Winslade had his feet on the desk. I looked at him, and he smiled back with sharp white teeth.
“Hey McGill,” he said. “Nice of you to show up. You’re wanted in back.”
He directed me with a casual stabbing of his thumb over his shoulder.
“Adjunct Winslade?” I asked. “What’s going on, sir?”
“You’ll find out. There’s only one closed door in the back. Go see who’s waiting inside.”
Winslade gave me a shitty grin. I passed him by, walking as coolly as possible. I wanted to maintain a solid front for Natasha’s sake. She’d been rattled the minute we arrived in the parking lot, and there wasn’t any point in giving her a weak vibe now.
As we passed his desk, Winslade’s skinny arm shot out blocking Natasha’s path. I felt like cracking him one, but I had to let it go.
“Not you, sweetie,” he said. “You can wait out here and keep me company.”
Walking to the door, I pushed it open and stepped inside. In the dim interior I met none other than Primus Galina Turov herself.
I should have expected this after seeing Adjunct Winslade out front, but somehow I hadn’t figured it out. The Primus never came down to the sticks. She was a rare enough sight at the Mustering Hall up in Newark—but down here at the Chapter House? N
o way.
She took in my surprise with relish. I don’t mean she was happy to see me, not by a long shot. Her joy was derived from my obvious dismay.
“Six months of leave and you’ve already forgotten how to salute?” Turov asked.
I jumped to attention and gave her a crisp salute. She didn’t deserve it, but rules were rules.
Turov and I had never seen eye to eye. She was a small, shapely woman who was older than she looked and a whole lot meaner. She’d been born a rule-stickler while I’d been born a rule-breaker. I figured we were destined never to get along.
She made a point of toying with her tablet before addressing me. I stood there, staring at the wall behind her head, waiting.
Finally, she set the tablet aside and leaned back in her chair.
“I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve ordered you to come here. Correct?”
“No sir,” I said.
A frown flickered over her features. She paused, but finally had to ask. “You expected to find me here?”
“No sir. I meant that I’m wondering who sent those three Hogs—excuse me, Hegemony officials—to my door this morning.”
“Ah, that,” she said, nodding. “I sent them.”
For the first time since I’d entered the tiny, dim-lit office, I met her eyes directly. She’d gotten my full attention.
“Hegemony troops? On the eve of a critical vote concerning our independence? Can I ask why, sir?”
Turov smiled and steepled her fingers. Her nails were blood red, but cut short. “Because you are who you are, James. I was depending on that. Thank you for the assist. Now, if you would kindly get the hell out of my office and onto the lifter waiting at the Atlanta Spaceport, we can all move on with our lives.”
I was confused. I’d expected a good reaming at the very least. But here she was, all smiles. Why had she bothered to come down here in the first place? Just to gloat about something? It seemed like she thought she’d won some kind of victory, but I was baffled as to what the prize was.
Then the implications of her new orders sank in.
“Sir?” I asked in confusion. “Did you say there’s a lifter at the spaceport?”
“Yes. Get on it. Legion Varus is mustering out—immediately.”
I hesitated. While I watched, she stood up and turned around. She removed a beret and jacket from the rack behind the desk. She put them on slowly, almost languidly.
As she turned away to gather her things, my eyes roved over her. I have to admit, although I was a young guy who usually didn’t stare at women over thirty, I’d always kept Turov on my radar. She liked to wear her uniforms at the tightest, most form-fitting setting. Maybe even a notch tighter than that if the truth were to be told.
She turned back around and smiled. It was as if she’d put on a little show, and she’d known how it would affect me.
“Admiring my new patch I see?” she said. “Or maybe the suns caught your eye?”
My eyes flew wide. I’d been staring at her butt, naturally. Now that she mentioned it, however, she did have two gold suns on her collar and the wrong legion patch adhered to her shoulder.
Among the officer ranks, suns were the top insignia that could be achieved. Once you got to suns, it was just a matter of how many you had. I realized that Turov was no longer a Primus. She’d moved up two ranks, to the level of an Imperator. She could command her own legion now if she was assigned one. Or even multiple legions.
The promotion wasn’t the biggest shocker for me, though. Her legion patch was what got me the most. Where the Wolfshead of Legion Varus should have been riding proudly on her shoulder there was now a blue-green globe.
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out for a second. When I managed to speak at last, I spoke rudely. “You bugged out? You joined Hegemony?”
“That’s hardly an appropriate expression of congratulations,” she snapped.
“Sorry sir.”
“I’ve moved up in rank. There can only be one Tribune in Legion Varus, and that job is taken by Drusus. The council decided not to give me the legion, but rather to move me into Hegemony.”
“I understand, sir,” I said.
And I did understand. She’d been bucking for rank from the very first moment I’d met her, and now she’d finally gotten it. I’m a slow country boy sometimes, but today the light was going on inside my thick, dark skull.
I recalled all the times she and Winslade had made a huge production of filming the aftermath of battle. I’d also heard she wasn’t above doctoring reports to make it seem as if every victory was due to her leadership. She wasn’t the kind who liked to fight or even command in a battle—in fact I don’t think I’d ever seen her fire a weapon or man a line in combat.
“Well, Specialist?” Turov asked, gesturing toward the door.
“One more question, sir?”
She nodded.
“I understand you got rank and I congratulate you, but what’s happening to Varus? We’re supposed to vote on our independence tonight, and—”
“About that,” she said, walking to the door and opening it. “I know you’re not the type to take good advice, but I’m going to give it to you anyway. Vote to disband Varus. Don’t stand against what must be. Independent legions are a thing of the past. They’re unwelcome anachronisms. Maybe you’ll be allowed to keep your patches and unit names, but you’ll soon be melded into Hegemony no matter how you vote today. I believe the plan is to assign each legion a number with the names becoming nicknames rather than official designations.”
I was horrified. I had no interest in becoming a Hog from the 199th, or whatever they assigned us.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea—” I began.
Sudden anger tightened her face. “McGill, you’ve had your warning, and you’ve had your explanations. Now, get the hell out.”
She stood to one side, holding open the door. I saluted and marched past her into the hallway. She didn’t bother to return the salute. Instead, she slammed the door so fast it almost hit me in the ass.
I walked down the passage trying to look on the bright side of things. At least Primus Turov—Imperator Turov, that is—was out of my hair. I should be celebrating. But somehow, things didn’t feel quite right.
True to his word, Winslade was out in the lobby chatting up Natasha. She wore a polite but bored look on her face. Winslade didn’t seem to have noticed. He was disappointed when I showed up.
“We’ve been ordered to muster out,” I told Natasha. “Can you drive me to the spaceport?”
“Sure,” she said, but she looked as confused as I’d been a few minutes earlier.
In the meantime, Winslade had stopped chattering and was now looking smug. He pulled a jacket out from behind his desk.
“Secret’s out,” he said. “I guess I can show you this.”
There was a globe patch on his jacket shoulder.
“You too, huh?” I asked. I sneered. I couldn’t help it. “True loyalty is a damned rare commodity, I guess.”
Winslade’s expression transformed in an instant. He hunched forward and showed me his teeth.
“You’ll switch tonight if you’re smart, McGill. Don’t even participate in the vote. That’s a ruse. The fix is in. If you vote the wrong way, you’ll lose rank and be transferred to Hegemony in the end, anyway.”
Natasha eyed him in concern. I sniffed.
“Thanks for the tip, Hog,” I said, heading for the door.
“I’d kick your ass for that if you weren’t mustering out,” he called after me.
“Sure thing, sir.”
-4-
Natasha followed me out to the parking lot, and we climbed into her car. She was freaked out, and frankly, so was I.
“What kind of crap have you gotten me into now, James?” she demanded.
“Don’t worry, babe—” I began.
“No! Don’t even go there. I don’t want to hear any sweet-sounding talk about how everything’s going to be fine. T
urov—I always knew she was cast-iron bitch and that she hated you. But something serious is up, and I’m worried.”
“Yeah,” I said, making a forward spinning motion with one finger.
She caught the meaning of my gesture and started the car. We lifted up and glided out onto the road.
The conversation lagged as we both fell to brooding. I watched the streets whiz by out my passenger window. There were signs of Earth’s newfound wealth everywhere. Atlanta’s roads had all been dilapidated a year or two back. Now the weeds had been replaced with sapling trees, and the old crumbling asphalt had been paved over with puff-crete. I looked down, marveling at the alien building material. Puff-crete was colorful compared to plain concrete. The new road that slid under us was shot through with hints of pink and blue. Puff-crete was almost indestructible, and the stuff had been used all over the planet to give old roads one last, permanent pave-over. I knew the disintegrating roads of the past were hidden underneath that thin veneer. Here and there you could see dark patches of old asphalt like rotten teeth glimpsed in the back of a mouth full of crowns.
“You think we have time to go back to your place and get your personals?” Natasha asked me.
I tapped at my arm. After a moment, I shook my head.
“No,” I said. “Forget about my stuff—and yours. I’m checking the new deployment orders on my tapper right now. They’ve gone out to everyone. We’re to leave Earth immediately by any means possible.”
Realizing shore leave had come to an abrupt end, a flood of new thoughts occurred to me. I wasn’t going to have time to say any goodbyes or even to lock up my place properly. I could only imagine what my parents were going through. I’d been killed on their property, and my body had been hauled away with the rest. I hoped my mom hadn’t seen it—not even with a sheet pulled over my face. The sight would freak her out for life, I was sure of that.
