Cross of the Legion

by Marshall S. Thomas

  "Dead," Dragon said, bending over him.

  We burst out the door and headed down the stairwell again, with Scrapper's voice calling from our comsets. "Stopping third floor!" she gasped.

  We crashed through the third floor stairwell doors and sprinted for the elevator. Scrapper was crumpled on the floor before the elevators, barely moving, her sandy hair spattered with blood.

  "Scrapper!" I went to my knees. She turned her head to face me. Her mouth was a bloody mess, the teeth all smashed, nose broken and bleeding, a huge purple bruise already forming. She blinked grey eyes at me and spoke, spitting teeth.

  "Tough bitch," she choked. The elevator indicator was blinking '1.' Dragon was gone, heading for the stairs.

  "Are you all right, Scrapper?"

  "Go," she said.

  I went, tearing down the stairs, gasping for breath, enraged. That little bitch was going to pay!

  The lobby doors popped open for me as I charged out into the plaza square. It was deserted at that hour—except for two figures. The girl, running. Valkyrie, behind her, taking careful aim with a vac gun. She fired and the vac bolt flashed right on the girl's back. She collapsed, sliding on her face into a puddle. We ran. Dragon appeared from another angle to cut her off.

  And then the girl was up, shaking her head, on her feet, sprinting off again. Valkyrie fired, the shot echoing harshly through the plaza. It hit the girl's legs, knocking her down again. Then she was up, almost instantly. What the hell!

  I tackled her around the waist, falling with her to the gritty tiles of the plaza. She squirmed and thrashed like a demon. I got one hand on her blouse and smashed her face with a fist. She kneed me unsuccessfully and we rolled around a bit and she tore away from my grasp, getting to her feet. She whirled and a foot came out of nowhere and smashed into one side of my head and I fell to the ground, stunned. I watched the rest of the action through blurry eyes. She walked right into Dragon. He floored her with a powerful roundhouse kick to the head. It would have probably killed a normal person, but she came off the ground almost instantly, throwing herself at Dragon inside his guard, smashing at him with a fist to the face. He went to one knee, stunned. Then she did a nice left snap kick to his face. Valkyrie danced around, waiting for a clear shot with the vac gun. As Valkyrie brought the gun down the girl launched herself at Valkyrie, tackling her legs, and they went down in a tangle of limbs and the vac gun went flying. By then I was up and staggering forward, pulling out my own vac gun. I jumped on her, got a handful of hair and forced her head back, wild eyes glaring at me. I jammed the vac gun into her mouth and pulled the trigger.

  ***

  "Load her in!" Our rented aircar hovered a few marks off. Priestess popped the doors open. We dragged the girl in, limping from our wounds and bruises. Dragon's face was swollen and bleeding.

  "Priestess, take charge of the prisoner," I ordered. Valkyrie was at the wheel.

  "Is she dead?"

  "No. Whoops—she's…" The girl was stirring. Priestess had a field syringe in one hand but the girl seized Priestess's wrist and smashed Priestess's hand against a window and the syringe went flying.

  "Get her!" We piled on. I couldn't believe it! A vac bolt in the mouth, and she's still functional! I noticed Scrapper was in the back, still bleeding from the mouth, reaching over the seats to help us restrain the girl.

  "Another syringe…"

  Dragon pounded at the girl violently with his fists. She was on the car floor. We were all holding her down but she was still moving, glaring at us with icy eyes. Priestess jabbed wildly at her with the syringe. The girl was a pincushion when the sedative finally started to take effect.

  Scrapper was right. This was one tough bitch.

  "Did anyone remember to check out?"

  "I think it's time to wake up those Legion guys."

  Our emergency transport was a ConFree supply freighter, parked downside at Dardos Port, all set to lift. I was kind of glad we had arranged it. We were leaving quite a mess behind us. We would certainly not be able to leave the same way we had arrived.

  ***

  "She's beautiful," I said, peering at our captive in awe. She was shackled securely to a cenite bunk in the brig of the C.S. Fortune, and we were splitting the vac, bound for a rendezvous with the C.S. Die Young. We were all in the brig, gathered around her. I guess we were a sad-looking bunch. Scrapper had a bandaged nose and a swollen mouth full of tempo teeth. Dragon's face was also bandaged and glistening with medgel. My own body was aching. I had a bruise about the size of an orange on my head. Valkyrie had several fleshpads on her face. Only Priestess was relatively unscathed.

  The girl was indeed beautiful—simply fascinating. Priestess had cleaned out the mess in the girl's mouth, and the ship's medics had done some quick dental work. Her lips were a bit swollen, but she looked almost normal—if angelic can be considered normal. Dull, beaten dark eyes, the fire smouldered for now.

  Her creator was a true artist—a genius.

  "All right, Priestess," I said. "You say this lovely creature is a biogen."

  "That's right."

  "I feel a lot better," Dragon said, touching his bruised face. Biogens were tough. The System mass-produced them. Most of them were females, made for sex by the System's male power structure, but when the Systies started running out of soldiers they decided to use biogens. The females were just as strong and smart as the males so we found ourselves facing them on the battlefield.

  "Well, you examined her, Priestess," I said. "You used that body scan. It's supposed to be hot tech. It couldn't detect a biogen? "

  "She's something brand new," Priestess replied calmly. "The scanner picks up metal, and shows internal organs. Miss Nimalee's frame is fiberite, we now know. As strong as cenite, but a lot lighter—and it registers on the scanner the same as bone. Plus, this girl has got internal organs that register exactly like human organs, even though some of them are not functional."

  "I'll be damned."

  "There's a galactic government behind this. She wasn't assembled in anybody's garage."

  "So they sent a biogen. And she'll be untraceable."

  "Probably."

  "She drugged Link, then hit him with a psyscan. How did she get that past you, Priestess?"

  "She didn't. They weren't on her—or in her. And she went straight to his room. I watched her. They must have been hidden in his suite."

  "Of course. He wasn't hiding his location. They knew it. They had access. They stashed it in there."

  "And they discovered the association between you and Link, Priestess."

  "I suppose. We had to watch him."

  "Then you send out for a girl, and they're on top of it. A quick trip to the escort service, and their bionic babe shows up at your door."

  "Link will have told her we discovered the White Death spores."

  "They'll know we're after them."

  "They'll be waiting."

  "It doesn't matter," I said. "We've got to find out who's behind this. We're going."

  ***

  I awoke suddenly as the dream swirled around in my head, then dissolved in the mist. It was dark and I lay there in my bunk with Priestess, her limbs locked around mine. There was barely room in the bunk for one, but we always slept this way. We were on the Die Young, in vac run red, on our way to the next target.

  Priestess was sleeping peacefully. She was as lovely as an angel, fallen from above. Her lips were like ripe cherries, wet on my shoulder. Her skin was flawless. Her firm young breasts were pressed against my chest. Her hair was a tangled skein of black silk, tickling my flesh.

  I got a chill whenever I thought about how lucky I had been to meet her—or what I would do if I ever lost her. I could not possible exist without her.

  I had been dreaming about Moontouch and Stormdawn. But I knew it was not just a dream. It was her, calling out to me from across the galaxy. I had tasted her tears. I had felt her despair. She wanted me to come home. And I would—just as soon as we tracked d
own these evil, genocidal psychotics, and killed them all. Then I would return, dripping blood, to a better world, a cleaner galaxy. A place to raise a child.

  I could see my boy's lovely smile, lighting up my life. It almost moved me to tears. It is for you, Stormdawn. I fight for you, and your mother—to make a new world.

  New visions swirled around me as I lay there, in bed, heart to heart with my lovely Priestess. The Guardian, on Odura, placing a dusty book back on a shelf, sadly, and his words, echoing in my mind "…the great struggle for the future of the world…his side lost, his civilization was extinguished, and the world has long ago forgotten the epic struggle in Eldorath."

  And Tara, her voice crackling over the tacnet—"You have to be strong, Wester, to triumph over evil. You have to be stronger than the evil!"

  Damned straight. And it helps if you have no heart as well. I had been writing to Moontouch regularly—baring my soul. Andrion 2 had no Q-link. The things were still extremely valuable, very scarce, and highly classified, and not for backwater ports like Andrion. So we used Legion starlinks—but that took a long time. And Moontouch had not answered any of my letters. I had not really expected an answer. She answered me in my dreams, at night. It was her way of urging me to come home. If I wanted to communicate with her and Stormdawn, I should come home. That's what she was telling me.

  I untangled myself from Priestess and pulled the little deskmod out of the bulkhead and sat there on the edge of the bunk in the dark, gazing at the desk, my mind a blank.

  "What…?" Priestess, blinking sleepy eyes.

  "Nothing. Go back to sleep, Priestess. I'll be right there."

  "Love you."

  "Yes. Sleep." She drifted off. Letters—I'd write to Moontouch, and beg her to respond. But I did not touch the little desklight. Moontouch had been right—about everything. What had she said? It was etched into my brain, as if by acid. 'I see a White Death, invincible, wasting mighty empires.' The plague! '…and innocents, trusting in you, betrayed and abandoned—by you.' I had not believed it when she had said it, but that was Camelora, all right. All those children, singing the Legion Chant—betrayed and abandoned—by me! What else? Yes, yes… 'I see you…leaving your mortal flesh, to walk among the dead.' That one had really had me worried, but I had done it already. What else was my Holo-X trip to Chudit? I had left my mortal flesh, and walked among people who had died thousands of years ago. Moontouch's prophecies were more terrifying than ever, now that I knew how true they were. What else, what else? 'An endless war…your people exhausted, in despair. Men without minds, killing without remorse, and children without hope, waving the flags of an evil God.' Good lord! What was that? And the rest—'two madmen, leaders of the forces of light and darkness, locked in a struggle to the death for the future of humanity. You will follow the one and fight the other, and never know which God you serve.' Deadman!

  And, scariest of all, was the part she had mentioned first. 'You will abandon me and your son again, leaving us to face our enemies alone.' All right, I had abandoned them—but what enemies did she face? There were no enemies on Andrion 2. The planet was securely held by the Legion. Nobody would bother them there.

  And what was this war? The System was disintegrating as its subject peoples hurled off their chains. The Omnis had recently ceased their attacks, possibly in gratitude for the information on the xeno. What war? The Legion was stronger than ever. Who were these madmen?

  I pushed the desk back into the bulkhead and eased into the bunk. Priestess made way for me, wrapping her limbs around me again. I pinned her to the bunk, kissing her ears, her cheeks, her eyes. She blinked at me sleepily.

  "I have to tell you something, Priestess."

  "Can't it wait?"

  "No."

  "Oh damn."

  "I love you more than anything…in the galaxy."

  "Let me guess. It's Millie S-Fam."

  "Yes."

  "She's your new lover."

  "Well…ah…not exactly."

  Priestess sighed. "You really are hopeless. I should have you neutered! All right, how bad is it?"

  "Ah, it's not, uh…serious. I mean, well, I had to gain her trust, see, to get what we wanted, and…well, when it was over, it didn't seem fair to leave her behind. I mean, after all, she saved humanity. Right? And she did seem…well, fond of me. And…well, she's a very nice girl. So what should I do? Just dump her? Say 'Well, here we are, your new life in the future. See you, bye.' It didn't seem right."

  "So she's your new lover. Your new wife."

  "Oh…no. Not…not exactly. I just told her…I'd look after her. I'd be there."

  "Fine. Take her. I'll give you your freedom. It's been fun. See you!" Her lovely brown eyes burnt with emotion.

  "Stop it!" I touched my forehead to hers. "You are my life. If you leave me, I die. I'm sorry…about Millie. It happened. I have to live with it. I want you to meet her. I want you to love her. Don't talk about leaving me. We can't split up—not ever. I want to live with you a million years. I want you to have my baby—half me, half you. It will be the most beautiful baby in the galaxy! Promise me. Promise!"

  "I always wanted your baby," she said. "So we're going to leave the Legion, are we? And when is this going to happen?"

  "As soon as the war is over."

  "Which war is this?"

  "It hasn't started yet. Moontouch told me about it. It's coming—soon. And when it's over, that's it—we go home."

  "We?"

  "You and me."

  "And Millie?"

  "I…I don't know. I want you to meet her. She's a very nice person. She's a nurse. You could…"

  "I know. I know all about her. Do you still love me?" Her eyes were brimming. Oh no—don't cry, Priestess. Not that.

  "Priestess—I love you more than my life. I've proven that. I left Moontouch and Stormdawn behind, I left my own universe behind, I left the future behind, for you, when you were lost. I brought you back from the dead. You're me. I'm you. It's Thinker and Priestess, on the cross, forever. Do I love you? It's not just love, it's life! I'll be by your side until they blow me to bits, and with my last breath I'll call your name. And we'll live together in Heaven, forever."

  Sharp fingernails raked my back. Her cheeks were streaming with tears. "How did I ever meet you?" she gasped. "You're insane. We're both insane! I don't know why I put up with you. You're like a drug. You're like senso. And I'm addicted. Damn you. Damn you! Damn you! I love you. We're going to die together, Thinker. We'll never see our lovely baby. We're going to die in the mud, together, for nothing. Is that the only way I can keep you? I swear to Deadman…" She glared wildly at the ceiling.

  "Please, Priestess. It'll be fine. We'll be all right. Don't cry. We'll survive! And we'll be happy. I promise!"

  Addicted. She was right. We were both addicted, to each other, and to the Legion. And addicts always end up dead!

  Chapter 17

  Red Snow

  Decar! Kick ass, gang!" Redhawk shouted as the assault door of the Kiss snapped open and we charged into a heavy, freezing rain. The Kiss rose in a whirling cloud of icy spray. We were in a tall forest of grim dark evergreen trees, shedding icicles. The forest floor was covered with snow. Santos—deto!

  The Kiss was gone—invisible, already. We were right in the heart of the System. It was a miracle they had not spotted the Die Young, but it was no surprise they had missed the Kiss. She had slid through their defenses like a knife through soft cheese.

  "Count!" I called out.

  "Dragon!"

  "Priestess!"

  "Valkyrie!"

  "Scrapper!"

  All here—five troopers and one air jock. I had drafted Redhawk, I had drafted the Kiss. Tara was right—whatever I wanted, I got.

  We humped up a thickly forested hill in comtops, camfax and A-vests. Icy hail pinged off my visor. We did not expect any serious opposition. This one was so crazy no one should be expecting it, right in the System's back yard. We had learned a great deal abo
ut Citizen K. Fresco of Fresco Shipping, but we needed to learn more. We decided to interview the gentleman. We would do it the Legion way, which consists of kicking in the freaking door. The tacmap was crystal clear. We fanned out to surround the house. All appeared quiet as we filtered through those black trees like ghosts, our camfax cloaks blending in perfectly. A heavy, icy sleet attacked us, crackling in the cold.

  Dragon and I were the entry team. We low-crawled through a crust of frozen snow and ragged shrubbery to where we had a view of the front entrance. It was quite a home—more like a palace, actually. Two stories constructed of stone. Fresco Shipping was clearly a profitable venture.

  "Laser security alarm confirmed," Sweety whispered in my ear. She outlined it on my visor. A wide perimeter around the house.

  "Dog," Valkyrie said. A sleek black attack dog appeared out of the sleet, bristling, its nose lifted, looking around suspiciously. Valkyrie was off to our left, where the dog had appeared.

  "Valkyrie, do the dog," I ordered.

  "Get your mind out of the gutter!" she snapped impatiently. "I've got to deal with this guard dog right now." Sometimes I really wonder about Valkyrie.

  "Don't hurt it," Priestess said. "Use the dart." We were already prepped for the dog. I knew I would catch hell later from Priestess for what Valkyrie had said. It's impossible to avoid offending these females.

  "I kill subhumans," Valkyrie responded. "I don't kill animals." The dog jumped, twitched, staggered, and collapsed, silently. The tranquilizer was fast-acting but would not harm the animal.

  "Scrapper. Do the alarm. Ready, Dragon?"

  "All set." The perimeter alarm suddenly shifted position, snapping over to the rear of the house where it would not interfere with us. Fresco's alarm panel would show it was still functioning.

  Dragon and I darted for the door, sleet clacking against my visor. Dragon had the Manlink. The front door blew apart with a tremendous blast. We were through the smoking wreckage in instants and charged up the stairs. Dragon took out the bedroom door with another blast and we burst in while the debris was still whirling around the darkened room. There were two of them in a large bed, stunned by the explosion, petrified in terror. Fresco and a young lady—possibly his wife. I'm always secretly pleased when we bust into some place and discover heterosexuality is still alive and well. Call me old-fashioned—but I was beginning to like the guy already. That didn't stop me from putting a knee on his chest and jamming the barrel of my E into his mouth as Dragon sat on the girl, forced Fresco's hands behind his back and snapped on the cuffs. At such moments of extreme stress time seems to be cut into little fragments and I get a quick series of freeze-frames highlighting the oddest things—the beads of sweat all over Fresco's brow, moist olive skin, balding black hair, a scraggly mustache. He was a large, heavy man. His wife, pale blue eyes, mouse brown hair, icy cold face, going into shock, suddenly screaming like a siren.