The Last Legion

by Chris Bunch

  "Balls said the queen," Angie added, apropos of very little. "If I had 'em, I'd be king?"

  "Balls ain't no big thing said the duke," Garvin finished. "I got 'em and I ain't."

  "Ha. A capitalist, as I don't say," Njangu said.

  "You five have fun, fun, fun," Faull said. "I'll see you in a week." He hurried down the hill, and through the rather perfunctory security check at the Rec Center's gate.

  "Dump on us and run," Ton Milot said. "What's he got going?" He whistled, seeing a rather pretty, obviously pregnant woman embrace the ex-'Raum. Beside her was a boy, two or three years old. "Question answered, the lucky dog."

  "And who's she?" Erik wondered. "Is ouah Hank married? Or just cohabitin'?"

  "Either way's against regs, isn't it?" Milot wondered.

  "Sure is," Angie said. "Shall we drop the heat a wink?"

  Njangu Yoshitaro's face went hard. "You want to nark him off, Rada? Why?"

  "Dunno," Angie said, looking uncomfortable. "He's a 'Raum, isn't he?"

  "He's one of us," Yoshitaro said. "And snitches aren't."

  "It was just a joke," she said.

  "Yeah, joke," Njangu said.

  "Hey, screw you and—" the woman broke off. "Never mind, huh?"

  Njangu was unmollified but had the sense to nod. "If we're through bickering," Garvin said cheerfully, "is there anybody who really wants to stay in this fine joint, known for its heavily armed roaches since Buddha was a finf!"

  "Big choice," Milot said. "Unless you armored wicks get better pay'n we do."

  "My folks gave me two hun for actually graduatin' from something," Penwyth said. "I'll toss that in the pot, but I don't think it'll make much difference spread five ways."

  "Ah, so it's nothing but a matter of money," Jaansma said. "Shall I see what I can do about that?"

  "You need juicing?" Njangu asked.

  "Don't think so." Garvin held out his hands. "Now heed me well, brethren and sistern, and may thy prayers be with me, for I go forth among the unwashed and heathen, with the hopes of gladdening our hearts and enriching our life experiences."

  "Brother Penwyth, select a place where we shall reassemble, one suitable to my soon-to-be rich-bitch status."

  "A very classy joint is the Shelburne," Erik said. "Right down on the beach."

  "Then meet me there, perhaps by dusk, eh?" Without waiting for an answer, Garvin went toward the gate.

  "I don't get it," Erik said.

  "Our friend is doing what I think he calls hitting the hustings, looking for a sucker with credits, which he'd probably call pecuniary emolument," Njangu said.

  "Your friend sure talks pretty for a striker."

  "Your friend is pretty, for a striker or anybody else," Angie said dreamily.

  "Yeah," Yoshitaro said. "He doesn't like narks either."

  She moved close. "Hey, I'm sorry I said something wrong."

  "Forget it," Njangu said. "Let's go dump our ditty bags and check out Leggett."

  ———«»———«»———«»———

  Leggett's center was a broad park, with winding paths and lush gardens.

  "Nighttime," Milot said. "The hooks'll be out over there."

  "Oh yeh?" Yoshitaro said, interested. "Any murphy men?"

  "Huh?"

  "Guy who hides in the bushes," Njangu explained. "The whore lures the mark in, her mac slaps him upside the head, jackrolls him."

  "Hell no," Milot said, sounding shocked. "What kind of an armpit do you think Leggett is, anyway?"

  "Not nearly armpitty enough, evidently," Njangu said. "Good money to be made dry-gulching murphy men. But I guess us noble sojers shouldn't think like that. Lead on."

  The downtown streets were winding, close. The four soldiers pressed close to a small gravsled parked on the narrow pavement as a lift eased past.

  "Expensive part of the world, eh?" Njangu asked Penwyth as he eyed a window full of jewelry.

  "'Tis that," Erik said. "And if you got it, flaunt it."

  "Look at that," Angie said, voice hushed. She was pointing to a show window with a single shoulder bag in it. The bag was shimmering gold chain mail. "Isn't that flauntable?"

  "Yep," Erik said. "Only . . . six hundred seventy-eight credits. Two months' pay. It'd go well with your dress blues, Angie."

  "Maybe we'd better go back to the park if you're thinking like that," Milot suggested. "Njangu could pimp for you, since I get the idea he's used to crime. Or maybe I do, what did you call it. Murphy? Anyway, no soldier ever made enough money for something like that."

  "There's a way," Rada said dreamily. "There's got to be."

  "So much for my marriage proposal," Njangu said. "I'll never be able to keep you in that sort of style."

  Angie laughed, slid her arm around Yoshitaro. "I'm forgiven?"

  "For what?"

  "Thanks," she said.

  "Hey, Erik," someone shouted, and the four turned. Across the street a woman was waving.

  "Jasith!" Erik shouted, and darted between two lifters. The others went after him through the heavy, slowly moving traffic.

  Njangu decided the woman was worth risking death by anti-grav for. She was model-slender, long black hair worn down either side of an oval face, about eighteen. Her lips were very full, and her sloe eyes promised infinite delights. Small breasts almost showed their nipples over her top, a multicolored silk kerchief casually tied around them with a bow on the side. She wore matching shorts and yellow high-heeled slingback sandals.

  He watched enviously as she melted into Erik's arms, but noted hopefully that she kissed him close-mouthed before she pulled back. "You make a very sexy soldier," the girl said, her voice a throaty near whisper.

  "I make a very sexy anything," Erik said. "I heard you were workin'. Mellusin Mining's on hard times?"

  "Oh, you know, it's so dead, and there's nothing happening, and I thought I maybe would want to run some kind of store sometime, so Daddy wanted me to see what it's like. Veeeehry booooring," she said. "I thought it'd be interesting, selling lingerie, but it's just like working in a butcher shop or something like that, I guess. Though I don't think I'd care about a twenty-five percent discount on rib roasts. Maybe I'll get married instead." She looked around. "Who're your friends?"

  Penwyth introduced them. "And this is Jasith Mellusin. She's an old friend of the family."

  Jasith touched hands with the soldiers. She and Angie exchanged looks of instant hatred.

  "So they let you out of your cage?" Jasith asked.

  "Had to," Erik explained. "I was just simply too good for them to believe. Supersoldier, standin' right here."

  "Good is hard for me to believe," Jasith said with a laugh. "But since you've got a furlough, or an AWOL or whatever you soldiers call it, I assume you're going to Bampur's party tomorrow night?"

  "Nope," Erik said. "Nobody invited me, now that I'm one of the uniformed unwashed."

  "Oooh, it'd be a tragedy if you didn't appear," Jasith said. "You must come. I've just invited you. You, and your friends. Allah knows we need new faces."

  Njangu bowed. "And if there's faces like yours at the party, Allah knows we need you," he said.

  Angie glowered, and Njangu pretended not to notice. Jasith giggled.

  "My friend here's from Centrum," Erik said. "He was on that ship that was taken by pirates."

  "You were," Jasith said. "How'd you ever escape?"

  "It's a long and bloody tale," Njangu said. "Not suitable for the ears of virgins, the easily shocked, or the young."

  "Well that certainly doesn't include me," Jasith said.

  "No shit," Angie muttered.

  Jasith pretended she didn't hear. "Tomorrow night," she told Erik. "But don't be deadly and show up before midnight."

  "I don't even open your eyes before then," Penwyth said.

  "We'll be there . . . with bells on."

  ———«»———«»———«»———

  "What's in there?" Yoshitaro asked, eyeing a set of ope
n gates.

  "Where we don't go," Angie said.

  "Why not? Looks colorful. And there's four of us, all battle-trained and such," Njangu wondered.

  "It's the Eckmuhl, the 'Raum section," Penwyth explained. "We don't go on their ground, they stay on theirs."

  "Nice society you got here," Yoshitaro said.

  "It works," Angie said defensively.

  Milot snorted. Njangu waited for his comment, but none came.

  There were seven men about Njangu's age just inside the gates. They were dressed flashily, and leaned bonelessly against the stone wall.

  "There's seven good reasons not to go visitin' the 'Raum," Erik said. "Local fellers of ill repute, who'd like to see the exact dimensions of our purses."

  Yoshitaro buried a grin—the toughs looked and stood about the way he and his friends had, back on Waughtal's Planet. "Thanks for the tip," he said, sounding sincere. "How deep does the 'Raum section go?"

  "Three, p'raps four kilometers on a side," Erik said. "Ends right up against the base of the Heights."

  "How many people live inside there?"

  Penwyth shrugged. "A million? Maybe more? The census doesn't go inside, any more'n anybody else."

  "What happens when there's trouble?"

  "The 'Raum take care of themselves," Angie said. "The coppers convoy half a dozen lifters through twice a day to pick up bodies. They don't slow down much."

  "The second mate on my boat went in there once," Milot said. "Nobody knows why. He always thought he was tougher'n anything. Maybe he spotted a girl. The heat found his head on the gate the next day," Milot said. "We never heard no more. Not ever."

  "Subtle bastards these 'Raum, aren't they?" Njangu said. "What about Hank? Won't he get in the shit, being 'Raum and in the army?"

  "Who knows?" Angie said. "The only people who think like 'Raum are 'Raum."

  "Guess that's why the Force is so successful against the bandits," Yoshitaro muttered to himself.

  "Hey," Njangu said. "Isn't that yours?"

  The sign read: RADA'S FOR EVERYTHING. It occupied about half a block and looked, from its cluttered windows, like it indeed sold everything. And at a bargain, for there were signs everywhere: IF WE DON'T HAVE IT, YOU DON'T NEED IT. NO PRICE UNBEATEN. EASY PAYMENTS. NO FOLD UNWELCOME.

  Angie nodded reluctantly. "Yeh."

  "Whyn't we slide in there," Milot suggested, "and you get maybe six months' advance on your allowance? That'll grease us for the party."

  "No," Angie said shortly. "Can't do it."

  "Why not?" Erik asked innocently. "Here's their own lovin' child, just graduated from the hardest school the army's got and all. Why wouldn't they want to make some kind of love offerin'?"

  "Love?" Angie laughed bitterly.

  "What's the matter?" Milot asked. "Don't you get along with your people?"

  "Leave it, 'kay?" Angie's voice was sharp. "Just leave it."

  "Sorry I even bothered to learn to read," Milot said. "Consider it left."

  Njangu let the others go on ahead, looked at Angie. "Can I ask you a question?"

  "Not if it's about my family," she said. "Right now, that's not something I can deal with."

  "It wasn't," Yoshitaro said. "Or, maybe, indirectly. What's that sign mean—No Fold Unwelcome?"

  "My family's stores sell to anybody," Angie said. "But mainly to the 'Raum."

  "I'm lost," Njangu said. "If that's where you get your money from . . . why're you down on them?"

  "They're dirty, they breed like rats, they'd like to wipe anybody out who isn't 'Raum, and they ought to be run off Cumbre," Rada said bitterly. "If people had any sense, they'd get rid of 'em, and work the damned mines with their own people. But they won't. People always let somebody else sling their shit. One of these days, it's gonna come back on them."

  Njangu eyed her, decided he'd gone close enough.

  "Hey," he said softly.

  "What?" she snapped.

  He cupped her chin in his hand, kissed her. Her eyes went wide in surprise, then her mouth opened, and her tongue curled against his, arms going around him.

  "Hey," Penwyth shouted, "come on, you two. No fraternizin' in ranks!"

  She looked up at Njangu. "I hope you're not giving out tickets you don't plan on punching," she said a bit breathlessly. "I thought you were going to go antsy over that rich bitch back there."

  Njangu wiggled his eyebrows. Angie laughed, and Yoshitaro thought it was a very pleasant sound.

  ———«»———«»———«»———

  "So much for wild, banzai soldiers on reckless leave," Angie snorted. "Turn us loose, and what do we do? Stroll the friggin' docks like friggin' tourists looking at friggin' boats. We've been on pass most of a day now, and had two beers each, one pretty crappy meal, and a nice frigging stroll is all."

  "What's the matter with that?" Milot asked. "Being close to the sea is relaxing."

  "If I wanted relaxation, I could've taken a nap at the Rec Center," the woman said. "I'm looking for something resembling action. You know . . . dicks, drugs and doowah?"

  "Pick a bar, any bar," Erik said. "They all look like we might find a disgustin' brawl."

  Njangu looked up and down the waterfront. "No kid," he said. "But would just a plain simple brawl make our Angie happy? Doesn't there have to be a good body count and . . . and what the hell's going on over there?"

  Six men were pushing a young, ragged-looking peddler around. Yoshitaro heard shouts of "damn 'Raum," "toss him in th' bay," and "boot him, Sayid." The boy's wares—brightly plated knickknacks—were scattered in the street.

  Sayid was about to obey when a quiet voice stopped him. "You don't even want to do that."

  He spun, saw Njangu. "Butt out, sojerboy."

  "Sure," Yoshitaro said agreeably. He spun sideways, and his foot snapped up, raked down Sayid's tibia, and smashed the arch of his foot. Sayid howled, bent, and Njangu snapped a punch into the man's jaw, recovered, dropped him with a hammer strike on the base of the neck.

  Another man grabbed Njangu's collar, and Njangu turned into him, brought a knee up into the man's stomach, let him fall, vomiting, as he turned again.

  A third man had a knife out of a belt sheath, and Milot had his arm in both hands, smashed it across his lifting knee, and the bone snapped.

  Ton barely ducked a punch as Angie's knife hand struck into that fourth man's gut. The man gagged and collapsed.

  Njangu kicked the first in the head twice, very hard, without lowering his foot. The man whimpered, staggered away, both hands over the bloody mess that had been his face.

  The last man was holding up both hands, backing away, as Erik, grinning savagely, closed on him.

  "Nuh-uh, nuh-uh, not my doing, not my concern," he said quickly.

  "Then get the hell out."

  The man obeyed, ran about ten meters, then started screaming, "Police! Help! Police!"

  Njangu helped the boy to his feet. "You better scoot, little friend."

  The 'Raum glowered, spat, and ran into an alleyway and was gone.

  "Nice," Njangu muttered sarcastically, mopping his face with his sleeve. "Virtue's sure as hell its own reward. Now let's beat feet before the law materializes."

  ———«»———«»———«»———

  "Wup," Njangu said, as they trotted past the entrance to a hotel fairly oozing class. Several luxury lifters were unloading ostentatiously wealthy passengers, and uniformed help hustled here and there. "In here. Nobody'd look for four soldiers in a ritz dive like this."

  "And we are supposed to meet your friend here," Penwyth said. "At the very least, we can feed our darlin' Angie a drink."

  They slowed, tried to look suitably arrogant, failed, and entered the Shelburne. The lobby was all old-fashioned overstuffed leather chairs, dark wood, and engravings of people in red coats jumping four-legged beasts over fences.

  "Now, where would the bar be?" Njangu wondered.

  "These are sure not my people," Ton Milot said. "L
et's scoot. I'd rather face the cops."

  A clerk curled a lip as he saw them, then his expression changed.

  "Mister Penwyth! I didn't know you'd gone into the services."

  "I felt it was my patriotic duty," Erik drawled, in as snotty a tone as he could manage.

  "But of course, and it's a delight to see you. Are you planning on dining here?"

  "My plans," Erik said, "are nebulous at the moment. Actually, we were hoping to meet a friend. A Mister Jaansma."

  "Yessir," the clerk said. "He checked in about an hour ago. Oh, you must be the party he told me to expect. Your rooms are waiting. Six seaview rooms . . . I was able to put all of you on the ninth floor . . . I do wish Mister Jaansma had told me you'd be among his party, Mister Penwyth."

  "Perhaps if you'd sign in . . . and how are your parents these days?"

  "Spending most of their time on the out islands," Erik said. "They've closed down the main house on the Heights."

  "Ah," the clerk said, pushing an archaic register toward them. "That explains why I haven't seen them for a while. We're delighted to welcome you all to the Shelburne."

  ———«»———«»———«»———

  "I had your stuff brought over from the Rec Center," Garvin said, lounging on the bed. "Save the wear and tear."

  "You must've found somebody real rich," Angie said.

  "And dumb," Ton Milot added.

  "That's a big affirm to both," Garvin said. "Now go brush your teeth, and we'll rendezvous in the bar in half an hour."

  Njangu lingered for a moment.

  "You did a pretty good job of impressing those people."

  "Njangu, my friend, I did a pretty good job of impressing me, even if it was my deck. Those fools insisted on handing me money in bales, almost like they thought it was a straight game. So we should have a fairly adequate leave."

  "I've found one thing in this life," Garvin added. "Whether you're rich or whether you're poor, it's nice to have credits."

  ———«»———«»———«»———

  Njangu wandered around his room, face still, his mind on the past, touching the raw silk curtains, playing with the sensors on the com center, looking at the array of bottles in a wall cabinet, staring out the window at the calm twilight sea. Not ever like this, he thought. I never ever thought I would—