The Legion and the Lioness

by Robert D. Armstrong

  “I remember reading about this,” Drake mumbled as the flakes pelted the front glass. He turned toward me like a curious child, awaiting my response.

  “Yes. And I was never a fan of it,” I said.

  “There’s something ominous about it all. It’s beautiful, but it seems so alien to me,” he said, panning all around.

  “Try driving a car surrounded by thousands of morons on the morning commute in this shit. Almost makes the risk of being a fighter pilot seem not so bad.” I backed off the throttle again to 400 kilometers per hour, cruising in. Ahead was a flat tundra butted against a line of large hills or small mountains.

  “Here? There’s nothing out here?” Drake said. I glided toward the objective, rolling the craft so that Drake could get a better look. He stared out. “Okay, never mind, there is something down there.”

  “What?” I asked, biting my lip while awaiting his answer.

  “The snow was obscuring my view, but it looks like a cave,” he said. I looped around one more pass to get a look of my own. There was an unassuming shadowy area at the base of the mountain. Honestly, it didn’t look like much to me, but then again, the human resistance probably wouldn’t have a sign posted.

  “Let’s check it out. The indicator lines up with it. This has to be the place,” I confirmed. I brought the ship to a hover about 600 meters above it, slowly descending. I trained my guns down on the entrance. I thought it could be a setup, a trap of some sort. As alien as the world appeared to Drake, I thought the passage of time gave me a similar feeling. I was about to disembark on a planet that wasn’t my own. My kind had been evicted.

  “Xena, continue the landing descent, but keep our guns on that location and the engine ready for evasive. I want automated fire support if this goes sour. I’m not convinced yet,” I ordered.

  “Roger that, Captain.” I felt the autopilot assume control of the flight stick before I stood up. Drake and I met eyes before stepping toward the rear gate. He nodded, and in his wide eyes, I saw an even mix of determination, fear, and excitement.

  As I passed our living quarters, I noticed Xena suiting up in her combat armor. “Not expecting this to go well?” I asked.

  “Better to be prepared, I suppose. Would you like me to assume a more docile appearance? Maybe drop the armor?” she asked. I stared up at her black skull mask.

  “Negative,” I said. She appeared less like an android with her heavy armor on, but more frightening. Seemed to even out in my mind. In this case, we had more firepower, at least. I watched as she clicked both of her massive laser cannons to each arm. The device had a shotgun like slide with a blue light running the length of the meter-long barrel.

  She noticed me staring at the slide. “That’s to disengage the safety,” she said.

  “Oh.” I lifted my eyebrows. For a moment, I thought about our conversation from before. How she tricked me into thinking she was similar to the androids from my time. The incident with the Russian refugees seemed to wash away the tension, at least on my end.

  “Don’t be alarmed, Captain. If friendly fire does occur, I can assure, you’ll never feel a thing,” she said. Drake cracked half a smile.

  “Comforting,” I replied. Maybe the absence of tension was only on my end. The jet rocked back and forth, encroaching the ice beneath. The landing gear plopped down hard as the shocks absorbed some of the impact.

  “Whoa,” I said, bracing my arm against the hull.

  “It’s the winds,” Xena said, excusing her shipboard AI counterpart.

  “Yeah, wouldn’t that be awful, to crash now? After everything?” I mumbled.

  Drake chuckled nervously. “Don’t even joke about it, please,” he said. As we waited, I noticed the interior of the ship was eerily silent compared to the sound of the howling winds outside.

  Drake and Xena met eyes as I inspected my pistol one last time. Just before putting on my helmet, I stared into the visor’s red-tinted reflection of myself.

  “Hmm.” I wondered for a moment if the person in the reflection was my true self or the warrior on the outside was. My experience as a pilot shared a kinship with this helmet’s design, it’s almost serrated, aggressive lines reminded me of my razor-sharp skillset. I was calculative, cunning, and precise in and outside of combat.

  Was that really me though? The implications of the situation challenged the perception of myself.

  Perhaps my fearless prowess as a pilot was masking the real me, the woman who was afraid of loneliness and abandonment. As much as I admired and loved my father, I felt alone all those years when I was young. He remained wounded long after my mother left him. He was unavailable emotionally and worked long hours. Basically, I was left to figure life out on my own.

  Like my father after his divorce, perhaps I closed up and hardened my soul too, obsessively focusing on school, sports, and eventually becoming the best fighter pilot in the fleet. It’s possible my fixation on success was a distraction from resentment toward my mother’s abandonment.

  Luther came along and was an available version of my father, and I latched onto him emotionally. Perhaps I wasn’t quite the hard-as-nails, aggressive pilot as I projected to be. Maybe I was compensating for the absence of parents.

  Luther understood me completely, he took on my faults, my brashness, my competitive spirit. All the things that made me a hard pill to swallow, he embraced them, and I did the same for his faults.

  We were a team. An odd but functional couple. Our unity made us both, better. He lowered my guard. If he was gone, I wondered if I would recede completely into an abyss of vacancy and nothingness, like the machines I swore to fight. More than likely, the revelation about his death might kill me, but it was worth it to be the cold, hardened warrior my helmet’s appearance represented, one last time.

  I had to find out.

  I donned my helmet aggressively. “Let’s do it!” I shouted.

  “Whoa. I like the enthusiasm.” Drake stepped aside cautiously as the rear gate lowered. Snow flurries swirled up into the ship, surrounding us.

  “Wow,” Drake mumbled, his eyes bounced around with excitement. I took the first step down, marching toward the objective marker. The ramp met my cleated-boot first, clanking against the metal, then I came across Earth’s soil, crunching when I stomped into the snow. I stopped, remembering the feeling like it was yesterday.

  I glanced over my shoulder at Drake. “Welcome.” I nodded. His eyes widened. He’d traded the pink, toxic vapor of Titan for the white haze of Earth.

  Xena followed close behind him as we huddled a few meters ahead of the ship. The wind whipped about violently, hurling snow in all directions.

  “The objective marker is about six hundred and seventy meters that way.” Drake pointed at the cave. He was panting, perhaps he was nervous in the new surroundings. I led out in front anxiously as they trailed behind a few meters. I peered through the snow at the shadowy entrance, no more than two meters tall. Icicles overhung the entry, some larger than my forearm.

  The cave was uninviting. The entrance’s shape reminded me of a monster’s open mouth full of pointed, sickled teeth.

  “No footprints.” Drake panned around.

  “It wouldn’t take long to cover them, not in this weather,” I said as a strong gust of wind pushed me toward Drake. He secured me by the arms as I stumbled forward. “Are you okay?”

  “Yep. Thanks,” I said. I felt his strength as he scooped me upright. I met eyes with Xena as I stepped forward. “Xena, if Luther is here, we’re completely prepared for this situation, right?”

  “Yes. In the event we find Mr. Belic, I have a booster kit in my suit. It should give him the proper nutrition and stabilizing that he requires. If he has complications or injuries, we can take him back to the ship for further aid,” she explained.

  “Thank you, Xena. Good to know,” I said. What she didn’t know is I was taking him back to the ship anyway. I wanted him surrounded in a protected shell while he recovered. I fought my way throug
h the blizzard-like winds. I stepped up within a few meters of the cave, dipping inside the indented formation.

  The wind howled through the concave compression chamber. It was like a wind tunnel, intensifying the flow of air to the point that it was difficult to walk.

  I hunkered low, gripping the base of the larger icicles the best I could to guide forward. For a moment, I wondered if I was picked up by the winds, would I be impaled by the spears on the ground. All at once. Xena grabbed my collar. “Proceed with confidence, Captain. You’re fine.”

  I wondered if my body language gave it away. I nodded. “Thanks.”

  It was almost as if she read my thoughts and reacted. I stepped toward the entrance and staring inside. It was black as night. I cycled to night vision with my visor, peering into the darkness with my pistol. To my surprise, the interior was squared off, the walls inside sculpted ice with smooth surfaces.

  “See that? Those aren’t natural formations?” I asked.

  “Doesn’t strike me as such. Someone was here, at one time,” Drake said. I proceeded inside, stepping over a few chunks of ice in front of the entrance onto a snow floor. “Watch your step,” I warned.

  The snow inside was matted down and crunchy, like a high traffic area, but again, no footprints. It was vacant. The large room was about three meters high by five meters wide. From here, I noticed walls had a circular swirl pattern on them, as if it had been polished. Straight ahead, the room narrowed into a left turn, and we couldn’t see what was around the bend.

  “Only one way to go,” Drake said. I noticed a pile of ragged fur clothes tucked away in a corner, along with a pair of rusted icepicks. “See those?” I pointed.

  “Yeah,” Drake said. We cautiously pressed forward around the corner into a narrow tunnel. This area had a high ceiling that opened into the mountain, maybe twelve meters tall. It seemed to stretch far into the distance, the walls had perfectly chiseled ice on both sides.

  “What is this place?” Drake mumbled.

  “Not sure, but look down.” I observed.

  “Are those, tracks?” he asked.

  “Some sort of railway system.” I narrowed my eyes zooming down the track. I nodded. This could be a good sign.

  “Indeed, it appears this was used for transportation,” Xena said.

  “Transportation system means there’s possibly some sort of society in place,” Drake said.

  “Or was,” I said. Suddenly, a bright light shined from the depths of the tunnel, almost like a camera flash. I tugged Drake back around the bend in cover.

  “What was that!?” Drake whispered excitedly.

  “No idea. Back up!” I signaled.

  “Incoming,” Xena said. After a few seconds, I began to hear a screeching sound in the distance. It was getting louder.

  “I hear it,” Drake said.

  “Judging by the sound, an object is approaching, sixty meters, fifty, forty,” Xena continued. As she counted down, I could see a large metal object coming into view. It came to a sudden halt about ten meters in front of us.

  I leaned around for a better look.

  “Well?” Drake asked.

  “It’s, a rail cart.” I panned closer, examining the worn green paint and shiny front grill on it. The more I probed, it became apparent this was an old SUV converted into a rail car. The roof had been chopped off, so it sported an open top. The frame had been modified for the track, along with new wheels of course.

  The headlights flashed. I quickly ducked around the corner, waiting several seconds. Nothing happened.

  “Someone in it?” Drake asked.

  “I don’t see anyone,” I said.

  “Captain, allow me to investigate,” Xena suggested.

  I stepped around the corner instead. “Wait!” Drake whispered sternly, pulling at my wrist, but I jerked away. I slowly approached the car, hugging the wall on the left side. I aimed my pistol down into the cabin, observing the once attractive body lines, now dented and warped on the passenger side from an impact.

  “This thing has been through hell,” I whispered.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a BMW. They were called SUVs in my day, standard utility vehicles. Mostly for families. This model debuted a couple years before I left for Titan.” I recalled seeing it advertised as a hybrid solar/diesel powered variant.

  I walked right next to it, peering over into the cabin slowly. It was strange seeing something so fresh and new in my mind, now an antique hunk of metal. Drake followed. “Stay put. If they have cameras, we don’t want to frighten them.” He motioned Xena.

  “Roger,” she responded.

  Abruptly, a refrigerator shaped robot with a spherical head sprung from underneath the hood like a jack in the box, pointing two arm mounted cannons at us. I jumped back, pointing my pistol at it.

  “Fuck!” I yelled.

  “Hands up. D-don’t move,” the robotic voice stuttered. A horizontal white light bar on its dome head strobed back and forth as it spoke, then a red light emitted from it, scanning our bodies up and down.

  “Just do as instructed, Captain,” Drake said.

  “Unidentified lifeforms detected. Drop your weapons. Drop your weapons immediately,” the bot commanded.

  “Colonel? Your orders?” Xena spoke up.

  “Stay put, Xena,” he said. I dumped the pistol, throwing up my hands. Before the pistol could touch the ground, the drone zapped my C-12, melting it into a glop of silver matter.

  It panned over, zapping Drake’s weapon too. “Thank you,” it said. Smoke trailed off our weapons as the robot scanned my face several times. “Two lifeforms. Uncontaminated. Unidentified. Climb aboard and proceed to the next checkpoint. Good day.” The drone retracted back under the hood.

  “What the hell? Uncontaminated?” Drake asked.

  “Doesn’t sound good,” I replied.

  “What’s your gut say?” he asked.

  “It says we don’t have much choice,” I replied.

  “That scared the shit outta me. My heart is pounding,” Drake said. He held his chest as he panted.

  “I remember these robots from when I was a kid, before the androids,” I recalled.

  “Security bot?” Drake asked.

  “Uh, no. Home assistance for the elderly. First generation.”

  “Someone or something modified it then.”

  “Yeah. The ones from my day didn’t have laser cannons,” I said. The bot was a first generation cleaner, capable of many household duties.

  I recalled my aunt had one. I remembered they were somewhat wonky and unreliable, nothing like the more modern Keltons. It seemed this modified version was capable enough for this role.

  “Drake, I think Xena should go back to XU-97. Apparently, being a lifeform is the ticket here,” I said, raising my eyebrows as I stared down the tunnel.

  “I don’t like the idea of heading into the unknown with zero protection,” he whispered. I stepped closer so we could speak quietly. It was possible this cart was equipped with audio receiving technology.

  “The marker is that way, and it’s our only lead, Colonel.” I pointed down the tunnel.

  Drake glanced at the ground. “I know. Could she follow us on foot from a distance?” he asked.

  “Possibly, but understand she’s a liability down here. If this is a human settlement, they likely have the ability to detect androids. The last thing we need is a firefight,” I replied.

  “Your call,” I added.

  Drake nodded slowly. “Xena, head back to the ship, for now.”

  “Roger that, Colonel. Returning to the ship to await your orders,” she said. I spun toward the rail car. I opened the driver side door and it creaked loudly. “First time, right?” I asked Drake.

  “For what?” he asked.

  “In a car.”

  “I mean yeah, technically, if you want to call this a car,” he replied, sitting down.

  “If you had one of these in my day, it was considered luxury.” I shut
the door, I heard some paint chips or dirt fall off the side when I did.

  “Doesn’t look like luxury is much of an option anymore,” he replied. I sat down on the torn cloth seat. It was a converted bench. Up front and in the back, it could sit six adults, uncomfortably. Occupants could face either direction with the absence of a back rest. We turned toward the direction of our objective down the tunnel.

  A light flashed at the end of the shaft again, as I heard the diesel engine start in front of us. It hummed along at a low rpm. As I panned around at the interior, I noticed what appeared to be stained blood on the inside of the doors and seat. I assumed my visor could analyze the substance for confirmation, but I didn’t bother. At this point, it didn’t matter.

  I wasn’t backing out even if it was.

  The cart started to move. “Here we go,” Drake said, peering behind us. The rail car’s lights flickered down the tunnel until the right side went out completely. We were moving along at a brisk pace, maybe two meters per second. The cart wobbled around a bit on the frame, but it felt sturdy enough for this speed.

  “Probably be safer to walk, we don’t have any control over our approach, no idea what’s ahead.” Drake’s eyes bounced around.

  “We’re playing by their rules. I thought you liked that style?” I asked.

  “I’m enjoying it less and less.” He raised an eyebrow.

  “That happens in real situations,” I said. Drake snapped toward me, staring intensely into my eyes. He turned away as I looked ahead for a couple of minutes, wondering about Luther. Was he being kept safely somewhere? Was he alone?

  “I appreciate your faith in my decision making,” Drake interrupted my thoughts.

  “Uh, what?”

  “You know what I’m talking about.” He narrowed his eyes at me. I shook my head.

  “With the refugees I killed,” he added. I sighed loudly.

  “Look, Drake, you were put in a horrible position. Let’s move on from it and focus on the task at hand,” I said.

  “Yeah, but—”

  “It’s not the time or the place to discuss this. Once we get back to Titan, we can decompress from all this and do as many evaluations as you want,” I advised.