March of the Legion

by Marshall S. Thomas

  "Your room service. Didn't she stay the night?"

  Psycho laughed, popping the cap on his tray. "The lady has a responsible position in this medical facility. She can't be seen hanging about with an animal like me. Bad for the image, you know—highly unpro. But she is smitten—totally smitten—I assure you." He giggled, and tore into his medrats. I didn't like the part about "highly unpro."

  Psycho was a lot sharper than he pretended to be. Priestess and I tried to be discreet, but it would have only taken a call to her cube to ascertain that she had not been there last night. Five had wanted Priestess's body for a long time, but it was a lost cause. Priestess glanced at me. I decided to let it drop. Next time I'd go to Priestess's cube.

  "Morning, gang." It was Snow Leopard, fresh and alert, pale blond hair combed carefully back, hot pink eyes darting around the table. Gamma One was right behind him, Boudicca, the Bitch from Hell, short red hair and cold grim face. I wondered if they had spent the night together, but I did not really care. They were a strange pair. I could not imagine what Snow Leopard saw in her.

  They sat down at our table. Snow Leopard was quiet. He concentrated on his breakfast, barely looking at Boudicca. Boudicca was brooding, and I could see the ghosts flash over her features. Gamma One was a walker, if anyone was. Her squad had been almost annihilated on Planet Three by the Omnis. But she had been crazy long before Gamma hit Planet Three. Anyone nutty enough to have a Legion cross burnt onto her forehead had a serious death wish. I remembered her on Coldmark, slaughtering a priest just like a pig. Boudicca scared me. I did not know what the O's had done to her mind, but I knew I did not want to be anywhere near her on our next drop.

  "It's not bad here." Warhound appeared happy, savoring his dox, taking in the morning, his pale eyes content. He had a rugged face, deep-set eyes, and a short, severe haircut. "Not bad at all. Considerably better than Andrion 3, huh, Thinker?"

  "That's a ten, Warhound." We had almost lost Warhound in the Omni base. It was a holy miracle that we got him back. I could still see him, slashing at that Omni with a cold knife. That picture was burnt into my memory circuits for all time. Warhound was a simple kid, but he was a lot more than I had thought, a lot more than a good soldier. He had saved us all, I was convinced.

  "Morning." It was Valkyrie, a pale blonde goddess, approaching the table with her tray. Deadman's death! I shot to my feet reflexively, shocked to the heart. Valkyrie, my old flame, had a black Legion cross burnt right onto her lovely forehead. She glanced at me once, vaguely curious, emerald eyes cold. Then she sat down next to Boudicca. Everyone at the table gaped at her, stunned. Boudicca looked her over, and a hard smile slowly appeared. Boudicca raised a fist, wordlessly. Valkyrie returned the gesture and they struck fists. Valkyrie looked into Boudicca's eyes, but her face was cold and distant. She was gone, I knew—gone at last. The girl I had known so well was no longer here. She was out there with Gamma One now, way out on point.

  I slowly sat down again, guiltily. Priestess was glaring at me, cold and furious. I had done it again. Valkyrie was my addiction. I'd have to get over her, somehow.

  ###

  The sky was falling! I clapped my hands to my ears and opened my mouth. There had been no warning. One instant we were lounging on a pile of dropboxes and the next instant a catastrophic explosion, a thunderous roar, split the sky.

  The air shuddered and vibrations ran up through our boots. I cringed. The agonizing shriek continued, full-throttle, shattering the afternoon. Our eyes went to the source—a Legion fighter parked some distance off, a massive slab of blackened metal, raw blue-white flame pulsing out the burners. The pilot eased back on the throttle, and the nuclear thunder faded. We were at Farside Base, awaiting word on our mission, clad in litesuits, comtops at our waists, carrying our E's, our pitiful personal possessions stowed away in our fieldpaks.

  The pilot hit the throttle again, and the earth shook.

  He wasn't going anywhere—he was probably just testing the engines. Beta and Gamma went crazy. I could hear nothing except the blast, but the troops were shouting and gesturing, clawing at each other in excitement. Psycho silently screamed, a lunatic grin, waving his Manlink above his head.

  Ironman had his arms outstretched, his mouth open. Warhound stared at the fighter in rapt fascination, raising his E unconsciously. Priestess gripped my arm strongly, her face fierce and proud, eyes riveted on the fighter. I clenched my teeth as the power filled the air and the vibes ran all over my body. Boudicca stood on top of a stack of metal dropboxes, facing the thunder, her face gleaming. Valkyrie was below her, shrieking something, her lovely features transformed into a frightening mask. Scrapper had her eyes closed, one hand on her chest. Sassin was chanting something, probably a Cyrillian war song, eyes wild, doing a lunatic dance with his Manlink. It was like a fierce troop of apes, answering the thunder of the Gods.

  A series of short, sharp explosions. Then the thunder faded, again. I could hear the troops now, hysterical.

  "Hit it!"

  "Burn 'em up!"

  "Git some for me!"

  "Louder! Louder!"

  "Hit it!"

  A banshee howl from Psycho, eyes glazed. He looked like he was set to fire his Manlink for sheer joy. Priestess turned to me, a faint smile. A shiver ran over her body. Ironman laughed, delighted. The thunder faded and stopped. A shocked silence filtered back over the dusty spaceport. We settled back onto the dropboxes, waiting for Beta One. E's and comtops, and my life in a fieldpak. That was the Legion. I could carry everything I owned. I didn't imagine it was ever going to change. I gazed blankly at my E, and wondered where we were going.

  "Here's Beta!" An aircar glided up in a cloud of red dust and the doors popped open and Snow Leopard stepped out, his E strapped to his chest. His face was pale and set, expressionless. He paused before us, his cold pink eyes flickering over every trooper.

  "Right, we've got a mission. Listen up." Snow Leopard never raised his voice. We strained to catch every word. He paused to take a long sip of water from his canteen. Then he looked up at the sky.

  "Say goodbye to Andrion 2," he said. "We lift within the hour. Target will be revealed after we're underway. There's not much more I can say at this point. Except it's not going to be a picnic. And I don't want anyone to have any illusions. We're not coming back unless we accomplish the mission. And I aim to accomplish the mission." He was cold and calm, completely under control. I knew him well enough to understand that he was deeply troubled.

  "Are we going in under-strength?" Warhound asked. Snow Leopard had promised that the squad would be reunited.

  "That's a twelve," Snow Leopard responded. "We'll be over-strength. Two and Four and Eight and Ten will be with us—they're fully recovered." A muted cheer rippled through the squad. "And in addition, we'll have Gamma attached to us." Silence greeted the last statement. Left unsaid was what function Gamma One would be performing. I no longer trusted her judgment. I remembered a fat, half-naked priest, arms over his head, and Boudicca switching to xmin, cold and calm, and the priest's blood, splattering all over my A-suit.

  I had decided she was insane—only in the Legion it was sometimes difficult to tell. I had done the same thing in the same raid, slaughtering an unarmed Coldmarker. The difference was I had been surprised and terrified and acted out of panic and instinct. Boudicca had had plenty of time—and she had not been afraid. Wasn't that the difference?

  I had been in a blind panic—how could I blame myself? How could I compare myself with her? She was insane—completely insane. I shuddered. I had never reported Boudicca's crime. I was not sure why—possibly because I thought I was just as guilty as she was.

  Snow Leopard finished his speech. We slowly dispersed. Boudicca and the remnants of her squad were silent—they did not seem surprised. Boudicca must have been briefed on this beforehand, otherwise she would have surely exploded. I prayed to the Dead that she would not be in a leadership position over Beta. She had lost most of her squad—nothing could
change that. Whether it was her fault or not, the hand of death was on her now.

  "Thinker." Ironman said. He settled down beside me, leaning his E against a dropbox. "Got something for you." He was keeping his voice low. "Don't let anybody see it."

  He slipped me a tiny, carefully folded square of silky cloth.

  "It's from Moontouch," he added. A chill shot through my system. I looked around guiltily. Priestess was lost in dreams, looking up at the sky. Nobody was paying any attention to us.

  "How in Heaven's name did you get this?" I asked Ironman quietly as I unfolded the silk. Moontouch was a Taka girl—a sorceress, a princess, and my secret obsession.

  "I just received it last night. I got one from Morning Light—Moontouch wrote it for her. Morning Light can't write. That one was enclosed for you." It was covered with spidery, silvery Taka runes.

  "Last night?" I gaped at him. We were thousands of K from Sunmarch. Alpha Base was on the opposite side of the planet. We had not seen the girls since we had left on the Coldmark Mission. The Legion had been a tad busy lately, and there was no time for nonsense. "How did they do it?"

  "Never mind how they did it. The Taka are very resourceful—as you see." Ironman flashed his innocent little boy smile at me. He was quite a guy.

  "Right, how do I read this?" I was so excited I was not thinking. Atom could read Taka by now, but I could only speak it.

  "Your Persist can read it, Thinker."

  Right. The tacmod, dummy! My comtop was clipped to my waist. I left it there, powered it on and pressed the message up against the visor.

  Nobody was paying any attention to me. "You get that, Sweety?" I spoke softly into the shoulder mike.

  "Yes, Thinker," my tacmod replied. "This communication is addressed to you. It is written in classical Taka runes from the Age of the Book."

  "Translate, please."

  "Translation follows: 'For Slayer, my Lord, my King, my Master, my Maker, my Sword, my Heart and my Soul'." Sweety's metallic voice was devoid of emotion. "'Your slave sends her love, from the land of the living dead. You are in my prayers and in my dreams. My nights are yours alone. You walk with me in the halls of the Holy Dead. All of the power of Those Who Went Before is yours now. The Dead be with you, marching before you, in the name of the Book. I bless you, in the name of the Book. My prayers rise in the dark, carried by incense, to the Realm of the Gods.

  "'I await you, alone with the dead. I write my Book of Sorrows, for you to read under the Moon upon your return, and burn in the dawn of our new life. I cry, haunted by your ghost. I pray for your return.

  "'I knit a cloak of treesilk, for you. When it is finished, you will return to me. When you come, I will kneel before my King and cry grateful tears of joy. I will sing a song of love, for you. I will make warm tea of flowers and herbs, for you. I will bathe your weary limbs in oil and perfume—for you. All this I do for you every night in my dreams and every day in my mind. My days are only a passing mist, not quite real.

  "'The past is real and strong. I pray on my knees, in fields of bones, for your glorious return. Tears streak my cheeks, and the chanting of my prayers rises in the halls of the dead.

  "'Your child stirs within me. It is strong and active. I pray for a boy. He will be a King, in our bright new world, and King of the Dark as well. I will guard your child with my life, and present him—for you—when you return.

  "'I am your slave, and the vessel of your love. She Who Was Moontouch.' End translation."

  I sat there stunned, cold rivers running through my veins. Moontouch was pregnant! She was going to have my baby!

  ###

  "We're in dock mode." We crowded around a viewport of the assault craft, anxious to see our destination. We were in deep space, unimaginable light years from any inhabited world. Billions of cold silvery stars glowed against a field of velvet black, and glittering phosphorescent nebulae of gas and dust swirled in frozen splendor as far as we could see. This was the Outvac, further from anything than I or anyone else had ever been, or probably ever would be again. It was so far and lonely that the fear was on my skin like a frost, and my heart had slowed. How far can you really go before you die? Surely there must be a limit. And we must be almost there, for there was nothing here—absolutely nothing. Only the Outvac, and billions of strange stars from billions of years ago; some of them not even there any more; ghost stars, the light hitting our retinas, a magical picture of the past, and every star was a lie. I feared maybe there was really nothing there at all, only us, alone in the vac, microbes falling into infinity, a fragile sliver of life.

  "There! Look!" A tiny silvery speck, reflecting starlight. Growing.

  "Prep for docking. Secure all personnel." We ignored the command and maintained our post by the viewport. It was growing, glittering, gliding silently through space. A microscopic silver ship, lost in the immensity of the vac. What could it be? They had told us nothing.

  Larger. The details coming into view now.

  "It's a cruiser!" A magnificent vision, a cruiser of molten mercury, in cold starlight. A Legion cruiser, growing larger and larger. A vision to die for, growing like magic as we approached.

  "It's the Spawn!" Unmistakable—a ragged cheer. The Spawn had carried Beta to Coldmark, then to Andrion 3. She was an old friend.

  "Yes, it's the Spawn," Snow Leopard said quietly. "Our old friend, the Spawn. Come back, to finish the job. She has a surprise for us. A surprise." His pink eyes were far away.

  One had been very quiet lately. We did not dare ask him anything. He knew what the mission was, and he didn't like it. I looked around at the others. It did not matter—we were back to the Spawn!

  ###

  "Permission to board, sir—Beta and Gamma Two Four, Second of the Ship." Beta One gave a smart salute. It was returned by the Spawn's docking officer.

  "Board, Beta. Welcome back. There's a delegation waiting for you—come on in."

  A delegation? We filed through the triple docking lock and four troopers were waiting for us in black dress uniforms, braced, ready for inspection. A thrill of recognition shot through my veins.

  "Element reporting for duty, sir!" It was Beta Two, Coolhand, snapping a salute to One. He looked terrific—tall and lean, a mop of curly brown hair, tanned and handsome, in perfect shape.

  "Is the element fit for combat, Two?" One paused before Coolhand, looking over the troops.

  "Ten sir! We are all cleared for unrestricted duty."

  "How's the leg, Coolhand?"

  "Excellent, sir! Better than before."

  "Good." One paused before Beta Four. "Merlin? How are you feeling?"

  "Perfect, sir! Fully recovered." Merlin looked a bit tense, but he always looked nervous. We could certainly use him, wherever we were bound. He was smarter than the rest of us put together.

  "They grew you some new legs, did they?"

  "Yes sir! Chromite-core Legion legs, sir. They say I can walk through Hell now."

  "That's good, Merlin. That's good. Because that's where we're going, and I'm going to need you there. Eight! Did they get your insides patched up?"

  "They fixed the plumbing, sir. Added a little armor."

  Dragon was strong and confident, a commanding presence. His dark eyes glittered. Tattoos covered his knuckles and scarred his neck and ears. He was a warrior's warrior. It was great to have him back.

  "Redhawk, you were pretty dinged up. Sure you're right?"

  "Tenners, One! We're ready to lift!" A tight smile. His red hair was long and tangled, his scruffy beard was even scruffier than before, and his hot eyes gleamed with the light of a joyful madness.

  "How's the aircar, Redhawk?"

  "She's more than an aircar, One. She's a bitch from Hell. And she's dressed to kill. You got any planets you don't like, just let me know."

  "We'll do that, Redhawk. Beta, Gamma—mission briefing—now. In the capmod." Snow Leopard wasn't even giving us time to drop our gear. E's and all, we trooped along the narrow halls to the capm
od.

  ###

  I had never been in the capmod. It was a lot smaller than the wardroom where we had been briefed on the Coldmark mission. The Capmod was for CAT commanders and sometimes squad leaders, depending on the sit. It was not often they'd ask a squad of troopies to sit in.

  We filed in, choosing seats around a table covered with green felt, leaning our weapons against the bulkheads. A new doxcup was set before each airchair. A nice touch! I popped the top on mine quietly; hot dox was better than sex.

  Psycho grinned, bouncing slightly in his chair. What a fool! He'd make us look like idiots.

  The Second, Cubes, sat at one end of the table. Two Four One, Lowdrop, was beside him. One of the ship's officers whispered something to the Second. Cubes nodded, and the man went away. Snow Leopard found a seat beside Lowdrop. He looked tense and alert. I was very uncomfortable being this close to Cubes, and I simply did not like Lowdrop. Cubes was a scary guy, but I respected him. My own experience with Lowdrop convinced me that his only concern was with the mission, and that all his assets were expendable.

  A shrill whistle shot through the ship like a flicker of lightning. "Antimat drive initiating!" The announcement echoed through the room. "Prep for vac run red!" The ship shuddered, and lurched. My stomach swirled within me. We were underway. They were not wasting any time.

  "Beta, Gamma, welcome." Cubes spoke, his icy eyes flickering over us all. "Have some dox. This is highly informal. Two Four and I wanted to brief you all personally on your mission. It's an important mission. It's a very important mission. A mission which we believe can best be accomplished by Two Four Beta and Gamma."

  The dox was good. Boudicca was sullen, staring into space. Valkyrie was beside her, cold and empty. I could still hardly believe she had burnt that Legion cross into her forehead. It was a sign of insanity. I knew she was lost to us all—not all of Gamma's fatalities died on Andrion 3.

  "Beta and Gamma—especially Gamma—gave more than anyone could ever ask on Andrion 3," Cubes said. "Don't think we don't know it. I know every trooper in the Second. I knew all those who died. They weren't numbers to me. I see their faces every night. And a lot of others as well. Hundreds of them…" He faded for a moment, and a cold hush fell over the capmod. Then he resumed.