Legion Of The Damned - 06 - For Those Who Fell

by William C. Dietz

  AND HERE THEY LIE,

  THEIR BLOOD FOREVER MINGLED,

  THE LEGION OF THE DAMNED.

  And not far from the outermost ring, in a section reserved for civilians, a large crowd had gathered around a freshly dug grave. President Nankool was there, as was Chien-Chu, as was most of the Senate, two dozen military officers, and an equal number of civilian officials. Some Naa were present as well, more than a hundred in all, singing the death chant. Nodoubt Truespeak’s voice could be heard above all the rest. The deep baritone made the perfect instrument with which to express the tremendous sorrow that he felt. Sorrow mixed with a measure of guilt, because the assassin had been sent to kill him and would have almost certainly succeeded had it not been for Maylo Chien-Chu.

  Now she and her husband stood at the edge of the small rectangular hole that had been hacked out of the planet’s frozen surface, only partially visible through the driving snow, as the tiny casket was lowered into the cold, stony ground. Similar burials took place in Naa villages every day, but Truespeak found this one to be especially poignant not only because of the issues that lay behind the tragedy, but the fact the little girl was part Naa.

  Booly pulled Maylo close as their daughter’s casket came to rest at the bottom of the grave, and the ropes were withdrawn. He felt her shoulders shake as tremendous sobs racked his wife’s body and bit his lip as the first shovelful of crusty soil went into the hole. The assassination attempt, the miscarriage, and the funeral all seemed like part of a surreal nightmare.

  Finally, it was over. The bereaved couple leaned on each other for support as they made their way to the convoy of vehicles waiting to carry the mourners back. So many tears had been wept, and so many words had been spoken, that the couple had nothing left to say to each other as the driver guided the staff car back toward Naa Town and the fort beyond. If it hadn’t been for the spirals of smoke that rose to merge with a lead gray sky, and buttery yellow light that glowed from behind dozens of thick panes, the low, snow-covered domes would have been nearly invisible.

  The car bounced over ridges of ice, waddled through some potholes, and passed a snow-dusted quad just back from patrol. Booly and Maylo were huddled together, lost in the mutual misery, when the vehicle came to an unexpected halt.

  Booly looked up, saw that hundreds of leather-clad Naa had spilled out onto the road in front of them, and was reaching for his belt com when the mob started to dissipate. The townspeople didn’t go far, just to both sides of the road, leaving the middle clear. Then, as the staff car started up again, Booly saw that more of the locals lined both sides of the road. So many that it appeared as if the entire population had turned out, not to attack the car as he had initially feared, but to demonstrate their sympathy for those inside it. There were no secrets on Algeron, not around Fort Camerone, and word of the assassination attempt had spread.

  Maylo looked out through the half-fogged window, instinctively understood what the gesture meant, and felt the tears start to flow. She sobbed as the car wound its way through Naa Town, the snow-flecked citizens stood silently by, and another two-hour-and-forty-two-minute day came to an end.

  RAMANTHIAN PLANET, HIVE

  It was nearly midnight when Admiral Enko Norr read the very latest intelligence report, ordered an entire assault group to attack the invading object, and surrendered to the inevitable. Like it or not, he had no choice but to inform the Queen. An already-cranky monarch who didn’t like to be awoken in the middle of the night, and had a well-established tendency to abuse those who delivered bad news. Something that his mate, Suu Norr, the long-suffering Minister of Civilian Affairs, had already experienced firsthand.

  The journey from the admiralty to the royal eggery passed all too quickly from the naval officer’s perspective, and it wasn’t long before Norr found himself being escorted up the switchbacking ramps to the platform that encompassed the Queen’s enormous body. Norr gave silent thanks for the fact that most of the royal’s army of courtiers, toadies, and sycophants were home asleep. And, judging from the sound of the monarch’s high-pitched voice, the rest were under attack. “If I am to be awoken at all hours, and tortured with all manner of problems, the least you could do is fetch me some tea . . . Now move, or I’ll have the entire lot of you sent to an ice world, where you can huddle around a fire fueled by your own excrement!”

  The servants were well aware of the fact that Norr was the real cause of their misery and eyed the military officer resentfully as he completed his journey and stopped to bend a knee. “A thousand apologies for interrupting your sleep, Majesty.”

  “Don’t be silly,” the monarch replied caustically. “I love to be awoken in the middle of the night and subjected to the rantings of a uniformed imbecile. I shall be fascinated to hear what manner of menace is so important that it couldn’t wait for a more civilized hour.”

  Norr withstood the barrage of words, nodded gamely, and swallowed. It didn’t work. The hard, dry lump remained lodged at the back of his throat as he spoke. “An object that was first thought to be a comet, but was later determined to be an alien construct, is on a collision course with Hive. It is expected to touch down somewhere within the western hemisphere unless we’re able to stop it.”

  “What?” the Queen demanded incredulously. “You’re telling me that some sort of missile is going to hit Hive?”

  “Yes ma’am, I mean no ma’am,” Norr corrected himself. “It isn’t a missile so much as a custom-built spaceship designed to look like a comet. That’s how the Confederacy brought it into the system—and that’s why we weren’t aware of it sooner.”

  The Queen was fully awake by then and so concerned about what the naval officer had to say that she forgot to sound aggrieved. “Tell me what you know . . . Everything.”

  So Norr told the monarch how the object came to be classified as a comet, how the better part of two weeks passed before the Department of Astronomy took a closer look at the object and ran standard calculations on its orbit. That was when the bureaucratic alarms started to sound, a scout ship was dispatched to inspect the newcomer, and the truth became known. Rather than a comet, the incoming object was a ship designed to look like a comet, and had no doubt been sent for the express purpose of attacking Hive.

  The Queen interrupted at that point. Her voice was filled with concern. “Are they after my eggs?”

  “We aren’t sure that the Confederacy even knows about your eggs,” Norr replied. “But it hardly matters. An assault group has been dispatched to destroy the enemy vessel, the odds are against a hit on this location, and the eggery is extremely well protected.”

  “An assault group?” her royal highness demanded incredulously. I would have thought that two or three warships would have been sufficient to handle a single intruder. Or is there something you failed to tell me?”

  Norr didn’t want to tell her, but had very little choice. “I sent three ships. But, while the incoming vessel doesn’t mount the sort of offensive weaponry one might expect, it is equipped with some very powerful shields. So powerful that my task force was unable to penetrate them. It’s my hope that a stronger force will be able to get the job done.”

  “What about the ship’s crew?” the Queen wanted to know. “Have our forces made contact with them?”

  “Yes,” the admiral answered wearily. “A human who identified herself as Lieutenant Commander Moya Frenko is in command. Our intelligence people theorize that she’s a cyborg—and may be the only person on board.”

  “So let me see if I understand,” the monarch said, glaring down at the officer from the summit of her gigantic body. “A fake comet, piloted by a cyborg, is on a collision course with Hive.”

  Norr looked down at the floor. “Yes, Majesty, I’m afraid so.”

  The Queen turned to look at her Chief of Security. “Kill this fool and send his head to the Egg Norr with my condolences. She’ll be better off without him.”

  Admiral Norr wanted to object, wanted to comment on how unfair his
execution would be, when a bullet interrupted his thoughts. The officer dropped like a sack of rocks. A puddle of blood formed around his shoulders.

  “Get him out of here,” the monarch said coldly, “and summon the rest of my staff. My eggs are at risk.”

  PLANET ALGERON, THE CONFEDERACY OF SENTIENT BEINGS

  The dimly lit two-bed room held only one patient, and he lay unconscious in an improvised sling-bed. Readouts glowed, sensors beeped softly, and the sharp smell of disinfectants hung in the air. But in spite of the fact that Fort Camerone had an excellent medical facility, and efforts were under way to expand its capabilities in order to deal with all the different physiologies represented by the Senate, it wasn’t equipped to handle Ramanthians. So, even though the doctors were doing their best to treat the individual that Doma-Sa and Vanderveen had captured in the Thraki-controlled Erini system, there was no guarantee they would be successful. That fact remained at the forefront of President Nankool’s mind as he led a small group in to peer at the prisoner, then back out to the corridor. The news that the Thrakies were providing the Ramanthians with sub rosa support had come as a shock, and he was still trying to absorb it.

  “He doesn’t look very good,” Booly ventured doubtfully. “There’s no certainty that he’ll ever come to. And even if he does, some of the doctors believe he’ll be a vegetable.”

  “What if General Booly is correct?” Christine Vanderveen inquired worriedly. “Will the Senate accept the rest of the proof?”

  “I don’t know,” the president answered honestly. “The visuals you brought back are very convincing, but Senator Obduro could claim that they were faked. A witness would certainly help.”

  “Maybe there’s another way,” Sergi Chien-Chu said thoughtfully. “Rather than tackle the problem out in the open, we could meet with Obduro privately and show him video of Sheen ships being repaired in a Thraki facility. Then, if he and his superiors were led to believe that the Ramanthian would testify, there’s a good chance that they would break their ties with the bugs.”

  “But that would be a lie,” Vanderveen objected hotly.

  “That’s a strange objection coming from you,” Nankool replied with a frown. “First there were your activities on LaNor, and now this. While I’m grateful for what you have accomplished, your methodologies leave a great deal to be desired. In fact, some would say that this situation is of your making.”

  Vanderveen felt blood rush to her face, knew Nankool was correct, and willed herself to disappear.

  “Unusual times call for unusual strategies,” Hiween Doma-Sa rumbled in defense of his coconspirator. “But I agree with my colleague. If we could trick the fur balls into severing their relationship with the bugs, it would save a whole lot of trouble.”

  “All right,” Nankool agreed reluctantly. “Let’s set it up. Who’s going to take the lead?”

  Slowly, all heads turned toward Chien-Chu. “You’re one of the sneakiest bastards I ever met,” Nankool said affectionately. “If anyone can do it, you can.”

  “Thanks,” the cyborg replied dryly. “You say the nicest things.”

  THE HIVE SYSTEM, THE RAMANTHIAN EMPIRE

  Moya Frenko was the Flaming Bitch—and the Flaming Bitch was her. She could “see” via her sensors and “feel” the feedback that the ship’s systems sent her, but she couldn’t touch. Not yet, until her hull body made contact with the surface of Hive and her pain was consumed by the ensuing explosion. That was the moment when she would be freed from the metal prison in which she rode, the incessant loneliness, and the painful memories.

  The bugs were onto her now, had been ever since the scout ship had swung by, and there was no need to behave like a comet anymore. Now she was a missile, a missile on a mission, and the target was up ahead. Hive still looked small, no larger than the head of a pin, but it was growing bigger by the minute.

  Three ships had been following her, firing steadily, until they had no more torpedoes left to launch and were reduced to harassing her with cannon fire. Now they had been replaced by a dozen warships, including two battlewagons, three cruisers, and a squadron of destroyers. All preparing to fire on her.

  They had called upon her to stop, to surrender, to avoid certain death. But what they didn’t understand was that she wanted death, needed death, and hungered for death. Because that was where hundreds of her shipmates were, still strapped into the wreckage that had been their ship, cartwheeling through space in holed fighters or orbiting an alien sun in their half-slagged space suits. They whispered into the officer’s nonexistent ears, called to her in her sleep, and were out there waiting for revenge.

  So the cyborg ignored the incoming calls, kept her sensors focused on the target, and hummed to herself as the distance continued to close. Frenko didn’t have any offensive weaponry other than her strange, H-shaped body, but she was equipped with the most powerful defensive shields ever mounted on a single vessel, and they were operating at full capacity when the Ramanthians opened fire.

  Suddenly, the Flaming Bitch was at the epicenter of a barrage of incoming missiles, torpedoes, and cannon fire. The weapons converged on the shimmery energy field that surrounded the ship, created what looked like a new sun, and sent waves of violent energy expanding outward.

  Certain that no single vessel could possibly withstand such an attack, the Ramanthian in charge of the attack group was already starting to compose a glowing report when the Flaming Bitch shot out of the blazing confluence of energy and continued her journey toward Hive.

  The admiral stared up at the screens arrayed above him in disbelief, made a grinding noise with his beak, and ordered his ships to give chase.

  Meanwhile, Frenko “felt” what equated to pain, ran a systems check, and immediately identified the problem. The shields overlapped each other like scales on a reptile. One of them had given way under the force of the barrage, an energy bolt had slipped through the resulting gap, and the port in-system drive had suffered a direct hit. The system was already in the process of repairing itself, but the damage had been done, and with her speed reduced by 50 percent, the Bitch would be even more vulnerable.

  Frenko considered her options as she shut the power plant down, and was just about to conclude that she didn’t have any when a really strange possibility entered her mind. She didn’t have lips anymore, but if she had, they would have curved upward.

  The onboard NAVCOMP didn’t like Frenko’s plan and refused to implement it. But the naval officer had the necessary override code, the computer was forced to comply, and the Flaming Bitch simply disappeared.

  NEAR FORT CAMERONE, PLANET ALGERON, THE CONFEDERACY OF SENTIENT BEINGS

  The snow had stopped some twelve hours earlier, thereby giving birth to an uninterrupted series of bright, sunny, and all-too-brief days. Wonderful interludes during which the sky was clear, the air was crisp, and billions of ice crystals sparkled like diamonds. Perfect weather for some sort of outing, or so it seemed to Chien-Chu, who went in search of his niece. But after calling her quarters and asking around, it soon became clear that Maylo had not only left the fort but failed to notify her bodyguards.

  Though not overly fearful for his niece’s safety, the industrialist was concerned and decided to track her down. While not a real admiral, not in his mind at least, Chien-Chu was entitled to wear the uniform, which meant he could requisition all manner of things, including staff cars.

  The noncom in charge of the motor pool was surprised when the cyborg appeared, requested a vehicle, and got behind the wheel himself. Would he wreck it? Probably, the sergeant decided, but that was General Booly’s problem.

  Chien-Chu had a pretty good idea of where Maylo was, or thought that he did, and followed the main road down through Naa Town to the point where it intersected with the main north–south thoroughfare.

  Waves of slush flew up and away from the oversized tires as the industrialist turned south. The vehicle rocked from side to side as it negotiated a series of potholes before gaining the
better surface that lay beyond.

  The top of the obelisk appeared first, soon followed by a clear view of the entire monument, as the vehicle rounded a low hill and started down a slight incline toward the cemetery below. Chien-Chu saw no sign of another vehicle, and was about to conclude that he’d been wrong, when he spotted what looked like a dot south of the main cemetery.

  The cyborg pulled into the parking lot, got out, and followed the only tracks there were. He wasn’t dressed for the conditions, but didn’t need to be, and barely noticed the snow that found its way into his shoes and clung to his pant legs.

  Maylo heard movement, felt a tiny stab of fear, and turned to find that her uncle had approached her from behind. “I thought I’d find you here,” Chien-Chu commented. “Are you all right?”

  Maylo forced a smile. “Yes, of course. Bill is extremely busy, and I didn’t want to bother him.”

  “I doubt that he would consider it to be a bother,” her uncle replied. “And it’s dangerous to leave the fort without your bodyguards. What if you were taken hostage? Or killed? Promise you won’t do this again.”

  “I promise,” Maylo said contritely. “I know my daughter isn’t here, not really, but I miss her.”

  “Yes,” Chien-Chu said gently as he looked down on the tiny mound. “I know exactly how you feel. As you know, my son Leonid died fighting the Hudathans on a planetoid called Spindle. Later, when the war was over, I went there to find some closure. It didn’t help.”

  “No,” Maylo said sadly, “I don’t suppose it did.”

  “And nothing will ever fill the hole he left inside me,” Chien-Chu said. “But I learned to accept it, to go on with my life, and create happiness around the emptiness. You’re young, Maylo. There will be other children. As many as you and Bill want. So let go of this hole in the ground and keep your daughter where she belongs. In your heart.”