"Oh, Thinker!" She collapsed against my chest, flinging her arms around my waist. I embraced her tenderly, losing myself in her sweet scent. She was crying. Fate—it was Fate. How the hell do you fight Fate?
***
It was almost like a ceremony when we opened the arms locker again. I sure hadn't planned it that way, but we had to load the A-suits and weapons into the aircar, and Moontouch and Stormdawn and Deadeye had accompanied Priestess and me into the basement, to watch.
It was deathly quiet when the locker doors hissed open, revealing the two A-suits standing there in all their awful glory. I think it was only then, at that very moment, standing in shock before those two obscene, holy specters, that Priestess realized what it really meant. She gasped and moved closer to me, as if for protection. I'll admit it was a chilling sight—like witnessing our own deaths.
"You promised me, Daddy. You promised!"
"Your father is a great warrior, Storm," Moontouch replied. "His people have called him. He cannot refuse." She knew, better than I, about personal sacrifice.
"But he promised!"
"Pray for us, Moontouch," Priestess whispered.
"It is your enemies who should pray," Deadeye responded. "They will be scattered like autumn leaves before a mighty wind. Death to all your foes, Slayer! Death to them all!"
The two A-suits were mute, icy black armor and dead dark ruby faceplates, peppered with awful white scars, testimony to the horrors we had both endured. We would have to bring the suits to the Armor Shop and have them replated. The Legion would make them stronger, but the scars would not disappear. Replating just made them more obvious. Some troopers had A-suits that were so scarred up that the original black was almost all gone. White ghosts, they called them, people who had cheated death so many times there was some question about their humanity. Priestess and I were on our way now—well on our way. And I had really thought I had escaped. Fool! The only escape from the Legion is death.
"The dead will walk by your side, Slayer," Moontouch said, "All of the power of those who have gone before will be yours to wield. The dead call out to you, my love. I will pray to the dead, every day and every night, for your life, and Priestess's, and death to all your foes. The future is dark, my love. I cannot read it, but one thing is clear. You will make your own road into the future and into the past. I can only promise we will be awaiting you, my love, should Fate return you to us. I will cry a river of tears, and count every hour until you return, though it takes a thousand years." Moontouch was pale and distant, filled with an icy resolve.
"Please don't go, Daddy! Stay with us! Don't you love us?" Tears streamed down Stormdawn's cheeks. I reached out for the E and picked it up and a hot thrill raced through my fingers and up my arms. I grasped the weapon in both hands and examined it closely. The E Mark 3. She was one nasty, tough, deadly bitch—indestructible! Gas, flame, vac, X, laser, canister, biobloc, biodee, stunstar…everything we needed to confound our foes and keep us alive. A holy icon, a talisman of death and life, a mistress from the dark, my secret lover, mine once again. I could feel the power of the Legion running through the weapon, running through my body. Yes, she was a Goddess from Hell, and I was a soldier from Hell, once again, and I needed her just as much as she needed me.
"You promised!" I went to my knees and embraced Stormdawn with one arm, still cradling the E with the other. He threw his fragile arms around my neck. Would I ever see my lovely child again?
"We must be insane!" Priestess gasped in horror, in Moontouch's embrace.
"We always were," I responded quietly. "Nothing's changed. Nothing's changed at all."
Chapter 2
Trooper Zero
The Confederation cruiser Spawn was a tiny chip of life, tumbling through the awesome empty infinity of the Outvac. Its precise location, course and mission would always remain highly classified. Priestess and I had no idea where we were going, only that we were to be delivered up to the 22nd Legion's Strategic Reconnaissance Command like fresh sacrifices to the Gods of War. We had, of course, asked for the SRC. The Legion let you choose your own death whenever possible.
"Trooper Zero, reporting as ordered, sir!"
"Trooper Zero, reporting as ordered, sir!"
Priestess and I stood before a young Outworlder manning a bank of d-screens behind an info desk. It was a Legion tradition for new bodies to report in as Trooper Zero. Presumably this designation reminded them of their insignificance in the grand scheme of things. We were clad in our blacks, carrying all our worldly possessions in little nitex belt packs. Soldiers of the Legion travel light. Our only real luggage was the A-suits and the E's, and the Legion was taking care of that.
"ID's." The trooper didn't even look up. We dropped our Legion ID's on his desk. He waved them at a d-screen and read the result.
"You haven't been here five marks, and you're in trouble already. Report to Chief Ops, see the ship for the zero. NOW, bodies! Why are you still standing there?"
"Sir!"
"Sir!" We snatched back our ID's and hustled out into the corridor, almost colliding with a squad of fully armed and armored troopers, staggering along in their black A-suits, shouting at each other, scraping along the walls, armor shrieking against armor.
"OUT OF THE WAY, FLESH!" We tried to merge with the corridor walls as the troopers crowded past us. Their suits stank of slick and grit and an awful scorched scent that I knew well. I could smell the E's too, a savage, choking musk, the stink of battle, a sickening gel from the exhaust gasses of flame and X and canister. Damn! We were back, all right.
We had no trouble finding Chief Ops. We knew the Spawn well. She had been one of Atom's Road's cruisers. She carried us to Coldmark and Andrion 3 and later delivered us to the Maiden, on our fatal mission to Mongera. The Spawn was an old friend.
"Trooper Zero, reporting as ordered, sir!"
"Trooper Zero, reporting as…"
"Yeah, yeah, go on in, he's there." A harried aide gestured towards a closed door while scanning a d-screen.
The door snapped open as we marched in, then slid shut behind us. It was a small darkened comcenter cube, glowing with d-screens. A shadowy figure turned from a large wall screen, lit by the green reflections from a sitmap. He emerged from the shadows, a young trooper, glaring at us with hot pink eyes burning like coals in a face so pale we could see the blue veins throbbing at his temples. His thin bloodless lips were set firmly and a lock of white-blond hair hung loosely over one side of his face. Snow Leopard—Beta One, our old squad leader. He stood there for an instant, frozen, taking us in.
"You crazy bastards," he finally said. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Hello, One," I said. "You're looking good."
"Come here," he said. He reached out and seized one of my hands in a grip of iron and flung an arm around my shoulders and pulled me to him and we just stood there for a moment in silence, embracing. And it was almost as if all of Beta was there, watching us—the dead and the living, ghosts all, ghosts from the past. I could feel them, swirling around us in the dark. Then Snow Leopard broke away, seemingly embarrassed, and turned to Priestess.
She came to him like a lover, throwing her arms around him, and they stood there for a few moments, lost in the past. And I thought, we are truly lost. We had it all and we threw it away, but it doesn't matter. This is where we really belong. We're back with Beta, back on Atom's Road, right where we began.
"Have a seat, gang," Snow Leopard said, sweeping a big stack of plastic printouts off a desk onto the deck to make room for us. "Welcome to Recon. What the hell happened? We heard you got your assignment, Thinker—you and Priestess, on Andrion 2. It's what you always wanted. You dreamed about that for years. So why are you here?"
I looked at Priestess, and she looked at me. Impossible to answer.
"We enjoyed it as long as we could, One," I replied. "It was wonderful—it was paradise. But we couldn't continue. Not with the war. Not with all of Beta out here."
"You're both crazy," S
now Leopard declared. "Priestess, couldn't you talk any sense into him?"
Priestess shook her head glumly. "Sorry, One. There's no sense involved. We're here—that's all."
"Crazy. More crazies. Stupid and crazy." Snow Leopard sounded angry. "All right—fine. We can use you. You'll have lots of company here. I've assigned you both to Dragon's squad. You'll replace his dead. I'd advise you to update your wills. Life spans are short in Recon. If you want to die, you've come to the right place. Dragon will brief you, but in general we get the missions that nobody else dares tackle. Dragon's on an op right now, along with Valkyrie. They're overdue. If they don't show, you can help with the funeral arrangements." Snow Leopard was breathing hard. I could tell he was upset.
"How are you doing, One?" I asked. "What's it like, being Chief Ops? It's a big career move, right?"
Snow Leopard sighed, and brought one hand to his brow. "I sit here in perfect safety, surrounded by d-screens and printouts, and listen to my troopers die. This is not for me, gang. I may be joining you soon." Beta One had been the perfect squad leader, the ultimate warrior, leading from the front, always.
"One, don't be foolish," I ventured. "You don't want to…"
"You of all people have got no right to dispense advise about not being foolish, Thinker. How's your family? Moontouch and the kid? Were they happy about your leaving?"
"No, they…"
"Get outta my sight! You shouldn't be here! You're going to die for nothing!" Snow Leopard glared at me, his pink eyes almost spitting sparks. Priestess and I got up cautiously and retreated to the door as Snow Leopard sat there, pale and furious.
"Thinker! Priestess!" We paused at the door. "Be careful out there," One added quietly. "Dragon will keep you alive, if anyone can. He's the best we've got. You stick close to Dragon, you'll be all right. My exec will show you your quarters. We'll have lunch later—maybe tomorrow."
"Thank you, One," I said with great relief. I had been really upset, seeing One so angry with me. I respected him more than anyone else in the galaxy.
As the door to Snow Leopard's cube slid shut behind us, a tall young girl stood before us in the outer office, blocking our way—a gangling, awkward colt of a girl with a mop of curly red hair and a pale face full of freckles.
She threw herself into my arms with a gasp, flinging her bony arms around me convulsively.
"Twister!" I choked. "Beta Thirteen!" I tore her away from me to look into her childish face. She was beaming and misty-eyed.
"Twister!" Priestess shouted. They embraced, and Twister was sniffling like a baby.
"Can you take it out in the hall, please?" One's aide requested. "You'll have me crying next."
***
"Your bunks will be in here somewhere," Twister said, ducking her head to avoid an open wall bed. There wasn't a lot of room on a Fleetcom cruiser, and the Recon troopers were housed in a long narrow chamber near engineering, lined with bunks that folded down out of the walls. It was dark and silent and incredibly cluttered. Nobody was home. Only a few faint emergency lights illuminated the gloomy scene. Open bunks hung down everywhere, draped with clothing and disorderly bedding. The deck was littered with boots and nitex bags and dropboxes and loose gear. A knee-high console of personal lockers ran along the narrow aisle. Dead socks and girls' undies lay next to half-finished foodpaks and empty dox cups. Silent d-screens and mute music systems were scattered everywhere. I almost stumbled over a case of contac grenades. Hard-core sex holos and printouts covered every empty space on the walls—naked males and females, coupling in every conceivable position. There seemed to be a lot of girl-on-girl scenes. It smelled like a gym.
"Don't these people ever bathe?" I asked. I regretted it as soon as I said it. How the hell could I forget, so soon?
"Only when they have time," Twister said. "They're pretty busy. We let them do what they want. We treat them right."
"Good. Well, where do we bunk?"
"I don't know. Choose any place. You can discuss it with them after they come back."
"Say, Twister—what's all this fem stuff?" I gestured at the holos.
"Oh, that's Val and her gang. They're a little strange, but—well, you know Valkyrie."
Yes, I thought—I certainly know Valkyrie.
"Well, you must be tired," Twister said. "I'd better get back to One. He really depends on me. Welcome to Recon, guys. It's wonderful to see you again." She gave us a shy smile. We had gone through Uldo together. Everyone in Beta was bonded for life, that was certain.
"Thanks, Twister. See you later. We're going to turn off for awhile."
Twister left us and I settled back on a bunk and discovered an E, hidden in a messy tangle of blankets and pillows.
"This one sleeps with an E," I said, propping the weapon against the wall. Priestess cautiously examined the next bunk, arranging the bedding, then bumped her head against the open top bunk and sat down hard, silent.
"You all right?"
"Fine," she said, eyes closed, resting her head on one hand. It was warm and dark and oppressive. A high pressure pipe whined eerily somewhere nearby. It did not sound like it was going to stop anytime soon. I had almost forgotten how crowded it got on a cruiser. I removed a dead, wet towel from the bunk and dropped it onto the deck.
"Well, here the hell we are," I said.
"Your idea," Priestess replied.
"Yeah. I guess so. Let's see if we can get some sleep."
***
I slept uneasily, drifting in and out of consciousness, hot and sweaty, tormented by visions of Moontouch and Stormdawn calling out to me. Finally I faded away into a prickly, feverish sleep, to be startled awake by a horrific racket. Spotlights flashed all around us, great black shadows leaped over the walls and ceiling, and a shattering metallic drum screeched and blasted away. For one terrifying instant, I had no idea where I was. An eruption of shouting and screaming echoed through the narrow chamber and a confusing babble of voices followed. A disorderly gang of A-suited troopers crashed carelessly through the room, leaving chaos in their wake, howling like wolves, shrieking like the inmates of an insane asylum.
"Alert! There's a girl in my bed!" a female trooper hooted in a hoarse voice.
"What! Who does she think she is! Let's strip her and toss her out in the hall!" another girl shouted.
"Don't be so hasty—I'll take her!" a male voice cut in.
"What the hell! There's a man in my bed!" another girl exclaimed. A giant A-suit hovered over me, blinding me with a spotlight.
"That's a waste! You couldn't…"
"We didn't give anyone permission…"
"Let's rape him!" The girl in the A-suit tore me out of her bed. I knew there was no sense in trying to fight an A-suit. I just concentrated on trying to avoid getting damaged as she slammed me up against a wall.
"Who the hell are these people? Hey, dead meat, you just made a bad move! We eat pussy for breakfast!"
"Say, the honey's really cute!"
"Finders keepers!"
"Take her clothes off and let's take a look!"
"Aw right, break it up! Who are you people!" An icy female voice cracked like a whip. I recognized that voice—no doubt about it.
"Hello, Valkyrie," I said. She snapped off her helmet and dropped it to the deck and stepped forward, peering at me in the glare of a spotlight. Valkyrie was the former Beta Eleven, golden hair chopped short, icy emerald eyes, pale pink lips, and a black Legion cross burnt onto her forehead. Valkyrie, my lost love, my obsession. She reached out her cenite arms and yanked me off my feet and slammed me up against her chestplate and slid one armored hand behind my head and gave me a wet, sloppy kiss, forcing her tongue deep into my mouth. Then she howled with delight, just like a wolf, and fell backwards to the deck, carrying me with her and bringing down a tangle of other A- suited troopers.
"Three! It's Beta Three!" she shrieked.
"Who the hell is Beta Three?"
"Priestess! It's Priestess—Beta Nine! Gitcha hands off he
r—she's mine!" I recognized Scrapper's hoarse voice. She had been Gamma Five, and later Beta Twelve. Somebody hit the lights and I got to watch everyone struggling up from the deck.
Scrapper had her helmet off, revealing a thick tangle of tawny hair, clear grey eyes, and a Legion cross burnt onto her forehead just like Valkyrie. She was beaming at Priestess, cradled in her arms like a fragile porcelain statuette. Priestess, like me, was covering her face with her arms, wary of all the armor.
"How ya been, Thinker?" Valkyrie just lay there on the deck as the others got up. She sounded exhausted.
"Can't complain," I replied, sitting up to straddle Valkyrie's armored waist. "How about you?" Valkyrie's squadies were unlinking—dropping their helmets, flinging chestplates onto the bunks, kicking u-belts full of equipment along the deck, shouting and chattering, carelessly bumping into each other, the armor making a terrific racket, the incident of the uninvited guests seemingly forgotten. Most of them were girls.
"What the hell is the problem now? Don't you mammary types ever shut down?" A hard, aggressive male voice. Another A-suit approached, hauling an E, helmet off. It was a young male trooper with sweaty black hair, glittering, deep-set eyes, distinct chiselled features and a firm, thin mouth set in a determined jaw. It was Beta Eight—Dragon , the warrior's warrior. I couldn't stop the foolish grin that was forming.
"Three!" He stopped dead, taking me in sitting on top of Valkyrie. "Well damn, you don't waste any time, do you? I'd advise taking off her A-suit before proceeding further."
I got off Valkyrie and slammed my hand into Dragon's cenite palm. His face was sticky with sweat but he was looking good. Damn, it was good to see him again! I was so choked up I couldn't say a word.
"I told you not to come here, Thinker. What happened?"
"I'm stupid, all right? It's good to see you, Dragon."
"Hi, Dragon." Priestess had detached herself from Scrapper and stood before Dragon primly, stifling a grin. Dragon held out an arm and pulled her to him carefully, looking down into her eyes, just like a father greeting a daughter.
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