Secret of the Legion

by Marshall S. Thomas

  "Darksight has failed," her Persist whispered in her ears. "Weapons system guidance has failed. Tacnet is damaged, I am repairing. Hydraulics are…"

  "Shut down," Valkyrie ordered. "Just keep track of that O and Beta Eleven." She was shaking with tension but she felt no fear. A burst of scrambled noise roared in her ears. The floor shook and rumbled. A dull boom echoed off the walls.

  "O rising!" Valkyrie could not tell who had said it, but she knew what it meant. The O was in pursuit of Beta. "Run!" Valkyrie twitched in impatience. Thinker and Twister and Tara and Gildron were fleeing the O, and now they registered on Valkyrie's scrambled tacmap. They had entered her corridor and turned away from her position with the O on their heels.

  "Wester!" It was Tara, a shriek of horror. The O was coming at them now, ready to blast them to cinders—they were cornered where the corridor ended.

  "One, Three! We're trapped and done for! It's all up to you! Death!" Thinker's transmission was icy clear. Valkyrie was still in the cubicle, holding herself back like a coiled snake poised to strike.

  "It's them, Valkyrie." Snow Leopard's steely voice echoed in her helmet. "Get that O!"

  "I'm on it, One!" Valkyrie heard herself call out. "Goodbye and God bless you!" Valkyrie could see herself on the tacmap, rushing past outside the cubicle, hurling herself at the O from its rear, and then she heard the mighty eruption of starmass booming like thunder, and Beta Eleven's E, a tremendous barrage of auto canister x. Then the x stopped, and the starmass blasted past right outside the little cubicle, and the metal panel began to glow red-hot. Valkyrie caught a glimpse of herself on the tacmap. She had just stumbled past outside, retreating, cooking in the starmass. One more time, for the Gods. Valkyrie took a deep breath, kicked open the panel, and threw herself into the starmass. It knocked her down, a titanic blast of raging plasma, an invincible river of flame. She forced herself to her knees, oriented herself by the blinking tacmap, and fired canister, blind, towards the O. Then she turned and ran, blown along by the force of the gas. The starmass continued, cooking her armor red-hot. The tacmod was frantic, but Valkyrie ignored it. Beta Eleven was gone from the tacmap, but she was right up ahead somewhere—she had to be! The damned O was still alive, flooding the corridor with starmass. For an instant Valkyrie thought she had lost her target, and then the tacmod pinged once.

  "Target zeroed, as marked," it said, calmly. Valkyrie staggered forward to the site, and the starmass was still raging. The cenite walls were melting; the ceiling was spitting globs of molten cenite. The tacmod was marking out escape routes, flashing them at her in phospho pink.

  Beta Eleven appeared, a white-hot A-suit on the floor in a foetal position, buffeted by waves of starmass. Valkyrie reached down and pulled her former self to her feet by her wrists and gently guided her to an intersecting corridor, out of the starmass. It was right where it was supposed to be.

  They stood there for an instant. Valkyrie gasped with fatigue. Beta Eleven's A-suit was still white-hot, but she was standing. Valkyrie was suddenly overwhelmed with savage satisfaction. She had done it! She turned to leave abruptly, but Beta Eleven snatched at a wrist and pulled her back, and looked right into her faceplate. There was a momentary shock of recognition, and Eleven released her grasp, stunned. Valkyrie turned away again, and moved off down the corridor, hurriedly. She knew Beta Eleven would make it now—and she would keep the secret until it was time. She was suddenly flooded with emotion, and exhaustion. Done it—she had done it!

  ***

  VIEW: VISOR BETA X-8 DRAGON MISSION ULDO X D/T 314 06 17 0901

  Dragon tracked Beta One like a jungle cat, all his superhuman Legion senses set to max, gliding soundlessly from dark to dark, his E scanning for any life at all. Even an insect would have registered. Dragon crept through a gigantic hall lit only by the fires of Hell. His darksight gave him the ceiling above, massive coils of alien cenite hissing steam. A fantastic firefight had raged through here not long before. Scores of heavy mysterious structures dangled from the ceiling and a dizzying array of cenite cables hung down loosely, faintly tinkling. Some of the ceiling structures had fallen to the deck, lying in luminous rivulets of hissing, low-grade molten cenite. Walls and ceilings were scarred with multiple laser tracks, still smoking, and pitted with hundreds of x hits. Evil white pockmarks were everywhere and the walls still burned. The molten cenite ran past Dragon's boots, hissing and spitting. Beta One had been here. Dragon knew it in his bones. It had been quite a battle, Dragon thought—a battle worthy of his leader.

  Up ahead a giant hole had been blown in the ceiling and deck and the entire hall was wrecked, peppered with shrapnel. A portion of the ceiling had fallen down right through the hole in the deck, leaving a frozen trail of cenite beams and cables and assorted wreckage. Molten metal was running into the hole. It looked as if a tacstar had detonated there.

  Dragon's psybloc unit was still off. He was happy about that. Deceptors were still at max—the tacmap was trash. He crept up to the lip of the hole. It was a chaotic mess of tangled wreckage, dangling precariously into the drop. This hole was exactly where they had found Beta One's severed leg.

  "Target zeroed! Beta One, as marked!" Dragon tried to maintain his composure. The tacmod now showed the target down at the bottom of the hole, and the phospho ID lit up Dragon's faceplate. B1, it read—Beta One. Snow Leopard!

  Dragon leaned out over the hole, one hand grasping a twisted cable, the other wielding the E, looking down into an awful pit like a semi-dormant volcano, faint flames glowing from below, glittering molten cenite falling over the edge, splattering into nothingness.

  "One, Eight! Respond! I'm right here! What's the sit!"

  "Nothing to report." The words came in a rush of static, but they electrified Dragon. He triggered the flash on his E and the brilliant spotlight revealed a twisted mass of wreckage below, tangled in a spiderweb of warped cables. It was raining water and molten metal, and everything was wreathed in smoke and steam. Dragon could not see Snow Leopard.

  "One, Eight. Say again!"

  "Eight, One. Nothing to report. Get to the Ship!" It was a chill whisper that raised the hairs on the back of Dragon's neck.

  "Give me the target," Dragon ordered his Persist. He couldn't see a thing below, but the tacmod outlined Beta One on his faceplate, a confusing pink glow.

  "I'm coming down, One." Dragon snapped his lifeline around a jagged cenite splinter and launched himself down into the dark, sliding carefully past the tangled wreckage.

  "Eight, One. Your mission is the Ship! Get out of here and secure the Ship right now, trooper!" Snow Leopard broke into a coughing fit.

  Snow Leopard lay underneath a massive pile of wreckage, twisted cenite beams and buckled floor plates and broken pipes and wildly tangled cables. As Dragon touched down he saw One's cold pink eyes glaring at him out of a deathly pale face.

  "Nothing to report, huh?" Dragon inquired calmly.

  "Get out of here, Eight! I'm giving you a direct order. Get to the Ship and secure it! The mission, Eight—the mission!"

  What the hell happened to you?"

  "Forget me! I'm not important! You can worry about me later! Right now you've got to take the Ship. Why are you still standing there, trooper? Get the hell out of my sight!" Snow Leopard broke into another awful coughing fit, and then just lay there gasping.

  "I'm not going anywhere," Dragon replied, examining his One's predicament. A faint stream of molten cenite was splattering onto a twisted overhead pipe, then dribbling down onto One's leg. Dragon lasered the pipe off and the cenite began to fall harmlessly off to one side.

  "The Ship!" It was a plea, from Snow Leopard. His eyes were closed. He was in agony.

  "Forget the Ship," Dragon said. "Three and Cinta and Gildron have got the Ship under control. They don't need my help. I'm here to evac you. When did this happen? How bad is the leg?"

  "About fifteen mikes ago," Snow Leopard said through gritted teeth. "Omni probes—a bunch. I got them all—but they got m
e."

  Fifteen mikes. Dragon understood immediately what it meant. When Snow Leopard had ordered Valkyrie to attack the O that was closing in on Thinker, Tara, Twister and Gildron, he had already tangled with the O probes. He must have called out his orders from the bottom of this hopeless pit, trapped and seriously wounded. And he had not said a word to anyone about his problem. He had not wanted resources drawn away from the mission. He knew the squad would have immediately diverted from the mission to rescue him. "Nothing to report"—that was our One, Dragon thought. He was the ultimate One, the ultimate squad leader, the ultimate warrior.

  "Are you sure we've got the Ship?" Snow Leopard asked anxiously. "Are you sure? It was really there?"

  "It sure as hell was. It's done, One. The mission was successful. Now we've got to get you out of here. Looks like your right leg can be moved. How bad is the left?"

  "The ankle and foot are crushed. Also my knee. The fibula and tibia are both broken. The tacmod has stopped the bleeding. Trouble is…that big cenite beam is not moving, and it's fused with the A-suit."

  "Fused?"

  "The molten cenite has been falling onto the beam and onto the armor on my leg. It's fused the beam to my armor. The damned water hasn't helped either. We've got a kind of a natural foundry here." Dragon lit it up with the flash. It was an ugly mess, still glowing. The beam was solid structural cenite—very tough. A light spray of water was falling gently over it all from above. Fused—scut! Dragon glared at his chron. 0914 hours. They were running out of time, real fast.

  "Any chance you can withdraw your leg from the A-suit if I unlink your suit?"

  "Can't be done. I've already asked. The only thing that'll get me out of here is a grav crane and some delicate laser surgery. Dragon, we have to inform Recon Control that we have secured the Ship. They must reinforce us! It's critical! Do they know? Have you informed them?"

  It was at that very instant that Thinker's message came through on Black Jade's net. "One, Three. Cinta, Gildron, Three are entering the Ship. Repeat, we're entering the Ship! Goodbye and God protect you!"

  "I thought you said they had already secured the Ship!" One said.

  "They had. Don't worry, One—we get the Ship! Listen—we've got one big problem."

  "What's that?" Snow Leopard gritted his teeth again. He was pumped full of mags and biotics, flying high.

  "We've only got twenty-five marks left."

  "Before what?"

  "Before ConFree antimats the Mound."

  "Antimats the Mound! Why in Deadman's name would they do that?"

  "Because the Ship is launching—very shortly. And once it's gone, ConFree will want to destroy the evidence of its treason. For example, those dead Blue Gold troopers." The antimat part was all fiction, of course. Dragon knew he needed a damned good reason to get One to agree to what he was about to propose. The O ship was going to launch shortly all right, but the Star of Dindabai was also launching on schedule, with or without Snow Leopard and Dragon—and Dragon did not want either of them to miss it.

  Snow Leopard closed his eyes. His pale face was covered with icy sweat. "Launching…you're losing me! You said…"

  "One, I've got to get you out of here, right now! There's only one way."

  "Ahhh…what's that?"

  "You're right, that beam's not going anywhere. It's fused to your A-suit. My Persist tells me it may take ten marks to cut through it with my laser. We don't have ten marks. But I could cut through your armor, and your leg, easily, just above the knee, in just a few marks, with the laser."

  "Cut off my leg! Dragon…listen, if you're still upset about my promoting Eleven as our Two instead of you…maybe we could talk about it." One burst into another coughing fit, but Dragon could see he was laughing. Laughing! Dragon shook his head in wonder. He had served under a lot of Ones in his short and violent career as a hired gun, but Beta One was without doubt the best.

  "I'm serious, One! It's the only way. Your tacmod will top off your mags and gel you up. I'll carry you out of here, Redhawk is here to evac us. And the Legion will grow you a new leg. We're running out of time, One!"

  "Ten is here? I must be missing something. I must be hallucinating. How sure are you about this antimat thing? How do you know it?"

  "We've got about twenty-four marks! If there was any other way I'd do it, One. What do you say, One? Give me the word."

  "What happens if I say no?"

  "I'll stay with you. And we both die."

  "You crazy bastard! Go ahead—do it. But you've got to promise me we don't leave anyone behind! If all of Beta doesn't evac with us, I'm not going."

  "If all of Beta isn't at the evac point," Dragon said, "I'm not going either. Let's see now—was it the left or right leg?"

  "Cut it off and quit clowning around!"

  "Yes sir!" Dragon switched his E to laser.

  ***

  VIEW: VISOR BETA X-TARA MISSION ULDO X D/T 314 06 17 0918

  "Cease fire! Cease fire! Stop it, damn it! Have you gone insane? Stop it!" Tara was crawling like an armored worm on the deck as everything around her erupted in vicious bursts of auto x. A blinding stream of laser screeched past just over her head, drilling a nearby wall and freezing her blood. Shrapnel pinged off her armor. They were in a large chamber with an insane ceiling of glassy vertical tubes dangling from above, swirling madly, tinkling eerily.

  "Make it stop! It's gonna kill us!" Whit was trying to scratch a hole in the floor without success.

  "Thirteen! It's Cinta! Stop shooting at us! It's Cinta and Whit! Acknowledge, over!"

  Another horrific burst of x exploded off the ceiling, showering them with smoking metal and shards of glassy splinters from the tubes. Tara cringed inside her suit. "Scut. She's out of control. She's not even aiming. What the hell is wrong with her?"

  "Cinta! We hate to add to its troubles," Whit said, "but have we looked at our chron lately?"

  "Yes, yes—we're running out of time, we know. Thirteen! Twister! Acknowledge, damn it! What the hell is the problem?" They had zeroed Twister all right. They had first found the section of wall that she had lasered out, saving Tara and Thinker and Gildron as well as herself from a pursuing O, and then they had zeroed Twister herself. But she had zeroed them as well, and was doing her level best to blast them out of existence.

  "We'd better retreat, Cinta!" Whit urged.

  "No! We're not leaving here without Beta Thirteen!"

  "Well, it had better think of something quick!"

  "Twister! It's Cinta! I've come back for you! Do you hear me? I've come back! Answer me, damn it!"

  The response was a sob, clearly audible, followed by a hopeless moan.

  "Twister! We're here! Answer!"

  "Liars…liars…liars. Come to me. Come to me. Embrace me."

  "It's out of its head, Cinta!"

  "Silence! Twister, I'm coming. I'm coming to help you right now. Don't shoot me, Twister. It's Cinta!" Tara carefully stood up, right in the center of the chamber, and stepped forward. The zero from a laser sight flashed past her faceplate and chest, danced jerkily over the floor and walls and was lost in the glassy forest dangling from the ceiling. Tara walked forward cautiously, almost paralyzed, her skin ice-cold, both arms raised, completely open to the angels of death. Whit held her breath, terrified. What would she do if Thirteen killed Cinta? She would kill Thirteen, she suddenly realized. She had never even met Beta Thirteen. Did that make it all right? Whit began trembling. She had never killed anyone before. She prayed to Deadman, Cinta's new God, for Cinta's life.

  "I welcome you, O. Come. Touch me. We die together." Twister was out of her head, Tara thought, walking grimly forward to Twister's position. The laser zero flashed past her eyes again. Tara's face was covered with icy sweat. We all pay for our sins, she thought. She had abandoned Beta Thirteen to near certain death, and now she was paying. A laser burst in the heart would be merciful, she thought. Let it happen!

  But it did not happen. Tara found Beta Thirteen huddled in
an alcove just off the main chamber. The walls were scorched and burning. Twister's A-suit was still glowing red-hot. Her faceplate was burnt black. She was seemingly frozen behind her E. Tara knelt beside her and ran her armored fingertips over Twister's faceplate, gently.

  "Twister. It's Cinta. I've come back, and you're going to be all right. What happened?"

  "Cinta! Is it really…Thinker said you made it to the Ship. I thought…I can't see. I thought you were the O's."

  "Thinker was wrong. I'm here, with Whit. We're here to evac you, Twister. The mission is over. Can you move?"

  "Can't move. So hot! I can hardly breathe, it's so hot in here! The O…it blasted me with starmass, then moved on. It was chasing you. I fired at it; I gave it all I had. It just blasted me and went on. My suit's cooked. Can't move…I was going to shoot you, but I can't even move my fingers now."

  "We've got to get going, Cinta!" Whit urged her.

  "We've got a little problem, Whit. It's just as we feared. My tacmod tells me Twister's hydropak is empty. There's a big puncture in the unit itself, and all the hydro has drained out. Twister can't move her suit."

  "Fine, let's carry her, drag her, now! Let's go!"

  "How much time do we have to liftoff?"

  "Twenty-two marks!"

  "And what's the best time we ever made carrying her in sim?"

  "Twenty-five marks—scut!"

  "We're not going to make it. It's impossible."

  "What do we do?" Whit squeaked.

  "Give me a solution, Tess," Tara demanded calmly.

  "Beta Thirteen will have to be fully mobile to meet the time requirement," Tara's Persist responded, with infuriating logic.

  "Thank you! Implementation, please!" Tara replied through clenched teeth.

  "Access Thirteen's hydropak, spotweld the damage, access your hydropak, transfer fifty percent hydro from you to her. As hydropaks contain twice what is required as a safety measure, this should allow you both to be fully functional. I can instruct you on implementing the procedure, which should not take more than six marks, assuming no interruptions. In view of the time constraints, I would suggest beginning immediately, should you agree."