"Shut down, Sweety!"
"Beta, Beta…any Beta, answer!" Roaring with static, but I knew the voice. Dragon!
"Eight, Three!" I shouted. "I'm going to help Nine and Two and One. Cover me!"
A tremendous roar of static. Someone was saying something. It did not matter. No, not at all. I rolled over onto my chest. Green hell, swirling all around me. There, up ahead, Sweety had them zeroed. Lumps of clay—black clay, flickering in the laser. Lumps of clay, my God, it's all we are! They pulsed on my faceplate, B2, B9, B1.
"…don't do it!" Advice for the dead.
I waved my E into the dark and fired full auto xmax. I crawled, a worm in hell, brainless, blind and deaf and dumb. The earth shook, the air crackled and burned, the sky lit up—chainlink tacstars! Micronukes exploded white-hot right in my face, rising into the sky, glittering, golden, magnificent. I scrambled to my feet and ran right into it and the shock wave knocked me flat. I gasped and reached out my good arm. B2, B2, B2 flashed on my faceplate. I had reached Coolhand. A smoking A-suit, a pile of metal junk in the mud.
The chainlink spoke again, and I cringed. Someone gurgled in my ears. Was Coolhand alive? I caught a glimpse of his face behind red plex—still and cold, eyes open, covered with blood. His mouth opened—a silent scream.
Excruciating pain, glittering white-hot stars—a massive crack hurled me bodily into the gates of Hell. I was dead, on my back, burning. My ears rang—I was hit, again. My hearing was gone. It was strangely calm. I saw Priestess, in the mud. Smoke, curling from glowing cenite. I crawled to her. My E was gone. I reached out and touched her hand. I had it now—hand in hand, we would go out together. I was so tired I could not speak. A wave of exhaustion swept over me. The lights were gently going out.
###
The next thing I knew I was floating overhead, looking directly down at my body. It was such an astounding sight that I was stunned and awestruck. I could see everything in excruciating detail and in total silence. I was lying on my chestplate down below in a sticky sea of mud, and my A-suit was riddled with hits—the armor on my left arm was smoking and glowing. My right hand was linked with Priestess's and she was on her back—her chestplate was twisted and punctured, white-hot, splattered with bubbling blood. Coolhand sprawled nearby, his A-suit riddled with hits. I could see every tiny speck of dirt, every splash of mud, every evil smoking scar on our armor. It was raining, and every raindrop that hit our cenite burst into steam. I couldn't quite understand how I could be down there while observing myself from overhead, but then it slowly dawned on me. I was hovering at the doorway to death's cold road, and I was only a soul, floating on the wind, balanced precariously between one dimension and the next. That clay down there—that had been me!
It was probably only a split instant of time that I was out of my body but in that brief frac I saw everything. It was truly astounding—it was almost like being a God. One glance and I saw it all, the entire battlefield winking and flashing with xmax and laser, an insane tacstar sky rolling overhead with nuclear clouds burning and throbbing like Armageddon, spitting phospho debris hissing down to explode in geysers of black mud. And then I heard it, a horrific rumble, the Thunder of the Gods.
I saw Psycho running like a rat, splashing through mud on hands and knees and feet, the chainlink dangling, streaking through smoking flaming buildings, scrambling and crawling through the rubble. Lasers and xmax followed him, and the buildings shuddered and came down around him as he ran. The sky was getting darker. It was raining, fat hot drops splattering in the mud. Psycho found an opening in a collapsed wall and snaked forward on his belly, the chainlink nosing slowly out ahead of him. Rain, hissing on hot metal. He was a tiny figure on my field of dreams, but I could even see the blood on his lips.
"Give me a target, you bitch. Give me just one target!" He whispered it. I heard every word. The sky was rotten with deceptors, and the tacmap was trash. But they were close—he'd spot them soon. Green trash, flickering on his faceplate. Three Legion A-suits, down and out—that was me! Xmax, exploding off to his left. They had left him behind—perfect!
"Give me that…"
"Target, Psycho! Fire!" The tacmod illuminated what it had seen in a flash, the source of the firing—a faint green blob, hidden in a collapsed building.
"This is for Warhound." Psycho fired full auto tacstar, a rasping screech. He scrambled away immediately, cursing, back the way he had come, a rat on the run.
Less than a heartbeat—that's probably how long my soul was hovering there, but I could see everybody, I could hear them and feel them—all of Beta, and all at once. We were one, you see. It isn't surprising. I saw Valkyrie watch Five's building detonate a block away, a series of white phospho flashes and suddenly the nukes rose into the sky and the earth shook. She scrambled to her feet and ran through the shattered building where she had been hiding, up the fiery staircase to the second floor. She lay there for a moment quaking. No response. The entire building was burning. Most of the outside walls were gone, but the basic structure was intact. Valkyrie crawled through burning desks and chairs and d-screens spitting sparks. She slithered to the edge of the building and found a good position by a riddled masonry column. She slid her E ahead of her and guided the stock into her shoulder.
"Deadman, give me a kill," she prayed. "Show me a Systie." The tacstars burnt on her faceplate, and she had a great view—almost as good as mine. All of the buildings around her had been hit. Groundcars burnt in the streets. It was raining, a black sky lit up by flashes of xmax and laser and deceptors and the lovely flaming flowers of nuclear hits, rising to the sky, the flowers of the Legion. Deadman, they were beautiful!
"Deadman, you bastard, give me a target, for Gamma!" She was crying and her flesh was ice cold.
"Beta, Beta…" the rest was lost in static.
"Eight, Five…" a long roar of static. "…move, but I can't…" hopeless static. No, there's no sense in trying for commo, Valkyrie, I thought. It's hopeless. Just kill Systies, and die. That's the mission, now. Kill, and die.
"Target!" her tacmod cried out, "Marked!" There! A Systie, sprinting through an alley from one building to another, now hidden behind a massive pile of rubble. No matter.
"Auto xmax airburst," she instructed the tacmod, "right over his head." She touched the trigger gently, lovingly. A long burst of auto x exploded right over the rubble. Then she was off, running frantically back through the gutted office, hurling herself face-first down the stairs, crashing down to the ground floor as the building exploded above her with a tremendous boom. She hit the ground hard, running, gasping, sweating, moaning—running for her life. And the xmax followed her as she ran.
I could see Dragon as well—he had also sought high ground, a burning apartment mod flaming like a torch, wreathed in black smoke. Dragon was on the fifth floor now, kicking in a smoking door, moving through a fierce fire. Bodies lay on the floor all around him, a whole family sprawled in sudden death, a man, a woman, three children, their flesh smouldering.
Dragon took a position by a shattered window and watched his tacmod. He was slowly zeroing the Systies—he had ID'd three positions already from the third floor. If only he could reactivate the squad!
"Beta, Gamma—Beta Eight. Respond! Respond!" He squatted in the flames. His armor was beginning to glow. The building might collapse at any time. I wanted to respond to him, but I couldn't.
"…got two Systies spotted…" the voice was interrupted by a massive burst of static. "…to try to take…" More static. "…goodbye, Eight. Good…" Static. It was Merlin, I realized. Beta Four, the tech, the lab rat, taking on the Systies alone. At that precise moment, Dragon's tacmod spotted another Systie in the whirling chaff from the deceptors.
"Target! Mark!"
"Confirm!" Dragon pulled away from the window. He had four Systies zeroed now. He moved quickly through the flames and out the apartment and along the glowing halls and down the smoking stairway. If he fired from the fifth floor, they would have him. I knew
exactly what he was thinking. He could see it was hopeless to try and organize the squad. No, it was all up to him. He was going to go from one target to another until they were all dead, or he was. As he walked carefully down the smoking stairs he set his E to canister. I was suddenly overwhelmed with sorrow for Dragon. Death was here, to claim us all…Dragon's old companion, Death, stalking him still, tracking him all the way to Mongera. Death ultimately embraced all his comrades. He had told me about his curse—some evil crone had branded him for life. "Death will be your shadow!" she had said. "You will bring Death with you like a plague, and everyone you love will die!" He had shot her in the face, but it had all come true—and now he could add Beta and Gamma to the list. It didn't matter, I thought. I was confident Dragon would kill our Systies. All that was important at that moment was to kill Systies. And Dragon was a first-class killer.
I saw Merlin as well. Thinking back on it, I guess all this was instantaneous. But I still remember every last detail. Merlin was almost frozen with terror—I could tell that much—but he was forcing himself on, crawling through the mud like a worm. It was raining heavily and his faceplate was splattered with mud. He was shaking and crying. He must have known he was going to die, he could surely taste it, but he was not whimpering in a hole. He was crawling forward, seeking death like a moth hurling itself into a naked flame. The Systie was right up ahead—Merlin had zeroed him, and Merlin knew the Systie could not spot him through the crumbled wall of rubble that lay between them. All he needed now was a clear shot. Beta Four, the Wiz, Merlin, our own lab rat. He was stalking the Systie like a jungle animal. Boudicca had been right all along, I thought—never trust a Systie! They had waited until the O was dead, and then they had struck. It was treason against humanity. That O was drenched in the blood of the Legion, and the System wanted to steal it away. Beta was gone, sacrificed so that others might live. Merlin was terrified, but he was not going to let the System get away with this.
There—the Systie was in sight. A Systie A-suit, half buried in a pile of rubble behind an SG, wreathed in smoke and ashes as the rain poured down on the fires. Merlin pushed his E out ahead of him and slid the stock into his shoulder. The biobloc fieldfaxer was no good against Systies; he had lasered the weapon and left it smoking in the mud.
The Systie moved—Merlin switched to xmax auto and the laser sight lit up the target. Raindrops danced on his faceplate. Life was so sweet. Merlin must have been insane to join the Legion. He surely did not want to die, but Beta was dying, and he was Beta Four. I watched him gently squeeze the trigger.
It was pouring now, black clouds scudding close overhead, lashing the burning city, a smoking moonscape. I sensed that my soul was fading—something was happening. But there was Millina! She lay in a widening puddle of muddy water behind her E, trembling with hate and terror. A wave of sympathy swept over me. She had switched sides! It was almost miraculous—after all that Valkyrie had said about her. Why? What could have motivated her? Of course they would never have told her about the plans for the aircar—such knowledge is dangerous. They would have simply listened to the progress of the op, and then suddenly neutralized the aircar, and shown up themselves in an identical car, to collect the results. No mess, no fuss.
A brilliant op. Millina knew the System well. And she had switched sides!
The sky flickered and laser snapped over Millina's helmet. Death, we had said, launching the op. Yes, death it was, death for us all, Legion and Systies and O's, death for everyone, without favor or prejudice. And I suddenly understood about Millina. Death was Millina's goddess—Death, a remote pale blind goddess with a black cloth wrapped around her eyes, and a huge sharp sword. And whenever she heard a noise, she swung the sword.
The Hand of the Mocain, suddenly awakening to the truth, after a lifetime of service. I knew Valkyrie was part of the answer. Millina had hit at least two of the DefCorps soldiers as they leaped from the aircar, but they must have had two squads in that car, and most of them made it out before the car had been shot down. One of them was right up ahead, hiding in the energy field of a fiercely burning groundcar. It was time for Millina to play her dangerous game.
"It's Millina! Millina! DefCorps, hold its fire!" Millina shouted it out, her skin crawling as she crept forward. If even one DefCorps soldier had seen her firing at them during the landing, she would die as soon as she exposed herself.
She scrambled to her feet and charged forward into the rain, her E held low. The DefCorps soldier was on his belly in the flames from the burning groundcar. His SG was up and scanning. He motioned Millina down with one hand. She hit the ground, breathing hard. Rain hissed off her A-suit. She switched to laser. All those years, in the service of a false god. All that misdirected hate. It wasn't enough, to betray humanity. Now she had to betray the System as well. I felt an indescribable sadness, for Millina. Then she stood up and fired laser, right into the DefCorps soldier's A-suit.
###
It came out of nowhere in a heavy sheet of rain, spitting tacstars, booming past in a heartbeat, gone, back into the dark sky. Micronukes erupted in its wake, sudden flashes, the earth shaking, and a winking forest of phospho fireballs, rising to the sky. Lightning flickered wildly, and there was a stunned pause as a great crackling roar rolled over the battlefield.
My head was throbbing. My faceplate was covered with mud. I strained to move—a black cloud of pain. I squirmed over on to my back. Tacstars rose all around me. I smeared the mud around on my visor and stared out stupidly. Alive—I was alive! And back in my body!
"Cover me, gang…" Who was that? It was Merlin, suddenly up and running towards our tragic pile of shattered A-suits, Coolhand and Snow Leopard and Priestess and me. Merlin, for God's sake, throwing himself away, for Beta. Behind him, Psycho suddenly appeared, running forward firing his chainlink, full auto x, hosing down everything in sight to cover Merlin. Tacstars erupted in great, glowing flashes. Psycho hit every building in the vicinity. The buildings disintegrated, spitting phospho streaks, the sky full of junk, the buildings falling slowly in massive clouds of dust and Psycho crouched there, a perfect target, panting and screaming, finger fixed on the trigger, firing right over Merlin's helmet.
It was a nuclear morning for Fernveldt.
###
The escape pod hovered a few mikes over the smoking earth of what had once been Fernveldt City, and the access door snapped open and a girl appeared, an E in one hand, the other hand covering her mouth. The girl was unarmored, her hair blowing in the backblast. She paused briefly in the doorway, then leaped to the ground. I was still in the mud beside Priestess, too weak to move. I had ripped open my medkit and spread medpads all over her wounds, but the blood was bubbling up around the bandages and I didn't know what to do. I couldn't understand why nobody was helping me. What had happened to Merlin? Perhaps we were still fighting. It slowly dawned on me that the escape pod had strafed the Systies and probably turned the tide of the battle. And then I recognized the girl. It was Tara.
Dragon faced her with his E. Behind her, in the escape pod's doorway, a second person appeared. A savage face, heavy brows, violet uniform, also unarmored but wielding an E—it was the humanoid, Tara's pet! What was his name? Gildron! How had he gotten loose? He leaped to the ground, snarling and holding his E up warily.
"You!" Dragon exclaimed to Tara in total surprise. "Good shooting! We need evac, now! We've got dead and wounded!"
Tara stood there gaping at the scene of devastation around her. The entire city had been nuked. Not a building remained standing, and the sky was a poisonous brew of writhing fireballs. Fierce fires roared up to the sky. Nuclear light glowed on her face. A hot breeze carried a misty rain, stinging her flesh, and the fires flickered all around her. It was a miracle anyone had survived. The A-suited delegation before her was covered with mud and blood.
"Bring me your casualties," she responded.
"I've got life!" Merlin and Valkyrie were hauling shattered A-suits through the mud to the escape pod.
"Where are the others?" An eerie silence settled over the battlefield. There was only a deep rumbling from the sky. Psycho stopped firing. Smoke curled all around him—his chainlink was glowing.
"Everyone to the escape pod! Where's Gamma Five and Seven? Check the casualties! Quick!"
I was vaguely conscious of A-suited figures struggling above me. Then I was moving, under luminous skies. Priestess, don't forget Priestess, I struggled to say, but I could not. Someone's faceplate came close to mine. Horribly scarred plex, but I could make out the face—Valkyrie! Just for an instant she was there, and it was like a kiss, the kiss of life.
"Thinker…Thinker! Stay with us, Thinker!" Then she was gone. A quick glimpse of Merlin, and I was on my back again, and a hot wind was blowing debris all around us.
The escape pod exploded with a tremendous crack, dazzling and deafening me, the shock wave knocking everyone flat. When I struggled to my elbows in the mud, I saw the escape pod had been blown into the sky and was disintegrating, separate sections flaming through the air trailing white phospho smoke. The wreckage impacted several K away, testifying to the force of the hit, multiple flashes, multiple booms. My tacmod shrieked. A tacstar had exploded right on the escape pod. Dragon brought his E around in a slow motion blur towards a Systie soldier staggering from a smoking pile of rubble, Manlink at his shoulder. Dragon fired, Psycho fired, Merlin fired, Valkyrie fired, even the humanoid fired—another nuke shimmered and rose and the Systie was gone, snuffed out like a candle.
Tara was face-down in the mud, stunned. The humanoid was on his knees beside her, his eyes glazed over. I couldn't even get off the ground, but Dragon was there. He gently turned Tara over and held her in his arms.
"They got your ship—I'm sorry," Dragon said. The tacnet was working now and I could hear every word. It was like the crack of doom. It was hopeless now, I knew—Redhawk had to be dead. There would be no evac for us.
March of the Legion Page 16
