Slave of the Legion sotl-3

by Thomas S. Marshall

  "Stand by, Five."

  "Tenners, One. We're going in—one way or another!"

  Closer. Closer! This was it—we were almost at the gates.

  The wind moaned in my ears.

  "If that door doesn't open, you die, Systie." It was frighteningly clear that Snow Leopard was totally serious.

  "Open up, Bell," the Systie said on his net. "We're back."

  "Goodbye, Thinker," Valkyrie said softly, on private. "I always loved you. We're going to die together."

  "I'll never forget you, Valkyrie," I responded. "Watch yourself!"

  "Thinker, I want to live through this," Priestess said, "then we live together, forever."

  "I promise, Priestess—forever!"

  The massive doors moved—two gigantic cenite doors sliding open, the screeching of tortured metal, revealing only darkness within. It put a chill to my flesh. I glanced at my chron. It was 314/06/17 CGS, 0612 local.

  "Death," Snow Leopard whispered reverently. "Five, stunstar. Beta, attack, auto x." Psycho stepped forward and fired immediately right into the doorway, even as the gates were opening. The darkness erupted, a white flash, a tremendous boom, and a great cloud of dust and debris blasted out of the gates. We charged forward screaming, into the Mound, firing auto x.

  Chapter 9

  The Kingdom of the Doomed

  When the echoes died and the smoke cleared we found ourselves in a cavernous dark metallic hall, littered with shredded DefCorps gear. A bloody spectre raised one twitching arm from the deck, then collapsed. There were three more of them—Systies, unarmored. Pale lights high on the walls faintly illuminated a hall from Hell.

  "Four enemy dead," Priestess reported. The Systies had camped out here. Dropboxes and airbeds and cooking gear and rations were strewn around the floor. There were a lot of civilian items as well, clothing and blankets and shoes. The walls and ceiling were made of massive, flattened coils of dark, alien cenite. Coils—I had seen this before in the Omni base on Andrion 3. It was like being inside a gigantic, evil snake. The walls and ceiling were cold and wet. We were inside the beast now, inside the Mound, inside the alien world of the O's.

  "We're sorry, Bell. We're sorry!" The Systie, our prisoner, was on his knees before one of the dead. Our Systie was an Outworlder, I noted, a thin face, short hair. An Outworlder, in the service of the System. There were millions like that—not that they had any choice.

  "Secure this room—get that door closed!" Snow Leopard ordered. We were all inside now, the whole squad, armored and armed, charged up and ready to fire.

  "What about the civilians?"

  "They'll be safer outside—believe us!" The Systie commented miserably.

  "Leave them outside," Snow Leopard ordered. "and get that Systie out of his armor." Merlin found the controls; and the massive double doors began the journey back to the closed position, shrieking all the way, the outside light gradually fading. It closed with a terrifying bang. It was so dark inside that my darksight activated.

  "Still no psyprobe," Tara announced. "The Systie is no longer psyched. He's completely normal."

  "It's the stunstar," Merlin explained. "It scrambles electroneural activity; it neutralized the psych."

  Gildron moaned. We were scanning the walls and ceiling. Scrapper and Twister unlinked the Systie's armor. The chestplate fell noisily to the floor.

  "Merlin, wreck those controls," Snow Leopard said. "I want those doors sealed. Nobody gets in."

  "Tenners." Merlin raised his E. My heart was hammering. Nobody gets in—wonderful. But nobody gets out, either. Snow Leopard was truly terrifying, if you really thought about it. The controls glowed and spat sparks as Merlin melted them with the laser. We lock the door behind us—permanently. Now it's simple—victory or death. Snow Leopard didn't have to say a word. We all understood. I looked over at Tara. I could see into her faceplate. She was faintly smiling, her E raised and ready to fire. It was the smile of a saint. And I understood—we were on holy ground. Satan was up ahead, writhing in the shadows. And we were going to kill him, or die trying.

  "Talk, Systie," Snow Leopard said. "Where are the V? We're after the V."

  "It must be insane," the Systie responded slowly, looking around at us each in turn. "Legion must all be insane. It's after the V? The V will kill it all!"

  "Answer or you die." Snow Leopard raised his E and pointed it right at the Systie's chest. The Systie was out of his armor now, sweating, still on his knees, clad only in a dirty litesuit.

  "We'll show it the V," the Systie said. "We'll show it our world. We call it the Kingdom—the Kingdom of the Doomed. It's the V's world. We're just the caretakers. But we're just as doomed as the others."

  "Reception, Reception, Processing, come in. Report! What happened?" It was a tinny voice, coming from a handcom on the deck. The Systie reached down for it but One's booted heel pinned his hand to the floor.

  "Who's that, Systie?"

  "It's the rest of our guys—Processing. They're on duty inside. This is Reception and H.Q. It's not much of an office but it's all we've got."

  One eased his foot off the Systie's hand. "Tell them there's been an accident. One of the civilians grabbed an SG—no friendlies hurt. Tell them to come and assist."

  The Systie picked up the instrument. "Processing, it's Transport. We're back—there's been an accident. One of the packs grabbed an SG and we had to take it out. Nobody hurt. Can it help us clean up the mess?"

  "We're on the way, Transport."

  "Move it, Systie!" Snow Leopard barked. "Lead the way. We meet them—now!"

  Another massive cenite door slid open, the screech of metal on metal. A darkened corridor, sweating icy metal walls, the Systie's breath frosty in the air.

  "Processing is to the right," he said. We followed, our E's raised, every sense alert. This was the domain of the O's—a narrow corridor, a high ceiling hidden in the dark. The creatures were here, somewhere, waiting to lash out at us.

  "I want stunstar, Five," Snow Leopard ordered. The Systies were on my tacmap now, coming out of a corridor door up ahead. Psycho pushed forward past Snow Leopard and fired. A blinding flash and a titanic bang, the shockwave rocking us back on our heels and knocking our Systie off his feet.

  "Recover prisoners! Medic up!" The corridor was smoking. Three Systies sprawled on the deck, out cold, clad in litesuits and coldcoats, armed with SG's. Priestess was on them in an instant, checking the life signs.

  "Snow Leopard!" Tara looked around us uneasily, one hand out as if testing the air. The psybloc units on our helmets activated simultaneously, popping to life, then crackling like novas, filling the corridor with glaring light and dark leaping shadows.

  "Psybloc grenades," Snow Leopard said calmly. "Ahead and behind." He tossed one up the corridor and Valkyrie lobbed one back to cover our rear. They ignited, double explosions, white-hot stars spitting sparks, and we scanned the walls and ceilings as ice-cold sweat trickled down my temples.

  "Secure those Systies, Nine," Snow Leopard ordered. "Then follow us. Get the weapons, guys." I picked up another SG. We were bristling with weapons by now. Priestess and Merlin slipped restraints over the unconscious Systies' wrists. The Systies had come out of another autosealing door, leading into the interior of the Mound.

  "Get that door open, Systie." Our Systie was still with us, right by One's side. He reached out to a black panel and the door began sliding open. I hurled in a psybloc grenade and it exploded inside, popping and glaring, lighting up the interior.

  Another large room, dominated by a great cylindrical column riddled with vertical slits, oozing sticky liquid, merging with the ceiling. Systie dropboxes and ration packs littered the deck.

  "What's that, Systie?" Snow Leopard illuminated the column with the light from his E.

  "Don't know," the Systie responded. "It's never done anything. Processing is topside. This way." We eased past the structure, E's up and scanning. The psybloc grenade bathed the room with harsh light. Our helmet units cont
inued to function. The door slammed shut behind us.

  "It's an elevator," the Systie said, "this whole section of floor."

  "I've got movement," Sweety whispered in my ears. "Upstairs. Hundreds of targets—human, unarmed." Our psybloc units suddenly shut off. The grenade continued to flare. We looked up to the ceiling. Even with the darksight, it was a confusing mess.

  "Why would they stop probing?"

  "To get us off guard. Let's get up there. Stay alert!" We moved onto the platform and the Systie touched a guardrail and we shot up to the ceiling and the ceiling snapped open and suddenly we were in Processing.

  I clutched a psybloc grenade, but there was no sign of O's. We were in another large, darkened room, a forest of strange devices hanging down from the ceiling. The floor was covered with rags—no, people. The rags moved, fluttering. Someone coughed. Faces, pale pinched faces, blue from the cold. Dull glazed eyes. Civilians, huddled under thin blankets and dirty coldcoats, exhausted.

  We walked through the room warily, eying the mysterious structures dangling from the ceiling. The deck was gritty, covered with trash. The civilians watched us silently. I could see in their eyes that they knew they were dead, and I wondered if they could see the same in ours.

  "How many more of your guys here, Systie? Why haven't they responded?"

  "They're up ahead—in Separation and Holding. Sounds don't carry in here. They probably don't know there's anything wrong."

  "More unarmored, unarmed humans in the corridor outside," Sweety informed me.

  "No psyprobe," Tara added. "But I don't like it here. There's something…wrong. Something oppressive."

  "Tell me about it," Valkyrie said. The ceiling glittered with ice.

  "You stay with me, Systie." Snow Leopard had him by his tunic, propelling him toward the exit. Another door, another corridor, this one inhabited by ghosts. They huddled against the walls, standing, squatting, collapsed on the deck, shivering in the cold, too tired to move.

  "They're all psyched," Tara informed us. "They're barely functioning."

  "These are all females," Snow Leopard said, "young females. Explain, Systie." Snow Leopard was right—I could see no males.

  "Ahh…this is Separation. The V make us divide the people into groups. The old, adult males and females, children…"

  I glanced at the tacmap. This corridor was roughly circular, but it was closer to the center of the Mound than the corridor below.

  Someone screamed, up ahead. One pushed the Systie to one side and moved up the corridor. I followed.

  They were in a doorless alcove just off to one side, two of them, DefCorps Systies in litesuits. They had a naked girl with them. She was very pretty and very young. They did not even see us as we approached—they were busy. One of them raised a hand and slapped the girl in the face, hard. The screaming stopped. A few other girls watched from the corridor with glazed eyes and expressionless faces. One of the Systies held the girl down over a dropbox while the other one raped her, thrusting deeply into her, his pants around his knees. There was a lot of blood—he was not being gentle.

  Snow Leopard and I stepped into the alcove. The Systies looked up and saw black armor, gleaming in the dark. Their eyes widened in shock. My laser sight lit up the forehead of the one who was restraining the girl. Then his head exploded. The other one scrambled away like a crippled dog until Snow Leopard's boot landed on his back. Snow Leopard brought his E to bear on the back of the Systie's head, but an armored hand reached out and lifted the barrel of his E away from the target.

  "Let me…please?" Valkyrie asked. The Systie twisted like a snake, thrashing around in the rubbish on the floor. He was on his back now, his pants tangled around his ankles. Valkyrie stood over him with an eerie smile. The laser sight lit up the Systie's crotch. He whimpered, and Valkyrie fired a burst on laser. I turned my head away. The Systie shrieked from the very depths, and then passed out.

  "He's still alive," Valkyrie said calmly, "but it's all right—he'll bleed to death."

  "She's in shock," Priestess said, looking after the girl.

  "She's psyched," Tara added. "They all are."

  "Is this considered a fringe benefit, Systie?" Snow Leopard seized our Systie by the front of his tunic and slammed him up against the wall, the barrel of the E resting against the Systie's throat. Snow Leopard's pale pink eyes were glittering hatred, and I knew the Systie was in serious trouble.

  "Unauthorized!" the Systie gasped. "The V have made us crazy! We try to help the packs!" Our psybloc units suddenly came on, crackling to life, lighting up the hall.

  "Enemy probes!" Sweety announced. "Two probes, as marked, projecting psypower, unidentified capabilities, approaching our position!" They were on the tacmap, coming at us along the corridor. I raised two weapons, the E and an SG. Another SG dangled from one shoulder.

  "Auto xmax," Snow Leopard ordered. He released his grip on the Systie, who slid down the wall to the floor, bathed in sweat. "Fire at my command. Grenades—now!"

  Back to the wall, I set both weapons to auto xmax. A couple of psybloc grenades burst brightly down corridor, lighting us all up. A girl in a blanket whimpered beside me—the corridor was lined with civilians.

  "Get down on the floor," I suggested. Closer—here they come! Probes, floating effortlessly just below the ceiling, coming right at us.

  "High and rising psyprobe readings!"

  "It can't resist them," the Systie said.

  "Fire," Snow Leopard ordered. I opened up with the E and the SG both. We all fired and the corridor exploded, a titanic, continuing multiple starburst, shrieking, awful catastrophe, the shock waves buffeting our A-suits. I kept my finger locked on autofire and the walls began to disintegrate, shrapnel pinging off my armor, the ceiling coming down, glowing and smoking.

  "Cease fire! Cease fire!"

  "Probes eliminated," Sweety reported.

  "I feel much better now," Psycho said dreamily. Our psybloc units switched off abruptly. A sudden silence descended on us. The corridor ahead burnt and hissed. The deck was littered with wreckage. The civilians whimpered.

  "Think there were any people down there?"

  "Not any more."

  "Where's that Systie?" Snow Leopard demanded. "Get him over here! Systie, we want to get into the interior of this installation—how do we get in?"

  The Systie was bleeding from minor shrapnel wounds. He appeared stunned and exhausted. "The V don't let us in past the third corridor," he said, "and even the third is blocked at both ends. There are terrible things in there—believe us, it doesn't want to go further."

  "One—we've got something here!" Dragon stood before another black cenite door. We moved up. Someone had crudely sprayed two words over the door: HOLDING—BRATS.

  "I detect numerous human targets within, all unarmored," Sweety informed me. Dragon hit the control and the door slid open.

  We went in guns up and we thought we were ready for anything but we were not ready for what was in there—a great hall full of dying children lying in their own filth, too tired to move, hollow blue-grey faces, tragic unblinking eyes, wasted little arms clutching rags for warmth. There was a muted wailing in the air—they were too close to death to cry.

  "Deadman's death," someone said quietly.

  "My holy God."

  We made our way carefully into the room, stepping between the children. They were all very young—toddlers and pre-schoolers.

  "Oh no. Look!"

  A whole corner of the hall was covered with rags. But they were moving, mewing, whimpering. Tiny pink fists, clutching at nothing. Babies!

  "Go away! You can't have them!" A little girl in a torn dress, enraged, stood amidst the babies. Her arm went back and she hurled something at us. It bounced off my A-suit. And suddenly the air was full of missiles, all sorts of junk, empty ration cans, old shoes, plastic dolls, baby bottles, rattling off our armor. The older children were struggling to their feet, throwing anything they could find, crying and screaming. A gang of
dirty-faced girls snatched up the babies, then ran to a corner, clutching the squirming infants to their bosoms. And that one defiant child stood before the remaining babies like a guardian angel, crying and trembling, screaming her rage and frustration and hate, ready to die for her charges.

  "Go away! They're only babies! Leave us alone! Go away! Go away! Go away! If I were big, I'd kill you!"

  "Somebody take the Systie outside and kill him," Snow Leopard ordered quietly. Psycho seized the Systie and dragged him out to the corridor. The last I saw of him he was screaming for mercy as Psycho activated his hot knife.

  Priestess removed her helmet. The hail of missiles ceased as the children slowly realized she was a female.

  "We're here to help the babies," she said. "We're here to help you all." She reached out and the child threw her arms around Priestess's neck and cried a river of tears.

  "That kid belongs in the Legion," I said. I had never seen anything as heroic as that little girl, defying a whole squad of armored killers.

  "We need rations—canteens—now," Priestess ordered. We were ripping open our ratpaks when Sweety interrupted.

  "Alert! I detect a full squad of Systies, fully armed and armored, approaching the Mound!" Sweety had nothing but good news for us.

  "I have to stay here," Priestess said immediately.

  "Valkyrie, these folks are going to take out the main doors and come in after us. I want you to take an element, go back to Processing—the room where we arrived by elevator. Clear out the civilians—put them in the halls. Then mine the room. I want it to go up as soon as the Systies are inside." Snow Leopard never hesitated. He always seemed to know exactly what was necessary.

  "I'll use displacement triggers and vulcans," Valkyrie said. "I want Twelve, Four and Eight. All right?"

  "That's fine. When the room goes up, I want you to attack, and finish off any survivors—get them all, then rejoin us."

  "Tenners. Where will you be?"

  "We're going after the ship. Keep in touch."

  "Will do."

  ###

  "He's right up ahead," I said. Sweety had the Systie zeroed on my tacmod. We had chased two Systies down the corridor, cleaning up the last of the Systies assigned to the Mound, in and out of rooms, while Valkyrie's group was still waiting in ambush to get the new bunch. Now this one was trapped. The bastard had an SG, and wasn't shy about using it—he had almost hit me. I was still twitching, inside my armor.