Curse of the Legion

by Marshall S. Thomas

  "We can do it, Thinker," Dragon said. "We don't need Holo-X. We drop in a phantom, grab Moontouch and hustle her into the ship."

  "I told you, she'll not come. She'll insist we evac all the others—all the Taka and all the Outworlders. I can predict the future too, you see."

  "Well, we'll just have to do it. Or as much of it as we can."

  "I'm going to stun her if it comes to that," I declared.

  "You'll be sleeping alone for ten years," Dragon noted.

  "I don't care. She's the mission. Not everybody else. We can't evac the whole damned world in five marks. Suppose she wants us to take the Daz'ra too? Deadman!"

  "Let's see the attack again," Snow Leopard demanded. There were only the three of us in the tacmod. It was dark in there except for the glow of the holo. It lit us up, three soldiers of the Legion, clad in dark camfax fatigues, mapping out the future.

  "Mark!" I said, triggering the attack. The tacmap was now illuminated faintly—a pale silvery moon cast a bewitching glow. Our Phantom appeared from the northwest, a single blue dot simulating the fact that it was completely shielded, completely invisible to the enemy and all their defensive systems. The ship smoothly glided to a landing just behind the little series of hills that were riddled with the Daz'ra's stone burrows. Ten A-suited soldiers burst from the Phantom, now covered by the hills which blocked line of sight to the nearest O hive. The ten soldiers starburst, but they were all headed up the hills and over the top, bound for the huts on the other side. They soon appeared on the far side, and at that point they were visible to any O who happened to be on watch. It was night and the O's lovely crystal hive glowed a faint pink in the distance. Three A-suited soldiers blew away the door of the hut that held Moontouch, and entered. That would be me, Deadeye and Stormdawn. I knew that hut all right. It was carved right into my heart. We still had a hell of a lot to do but from that moment on it was all over for me. The only thing to decide was how many of us were going to die.

  "Four marks!" Snow Leopard barked.

  "Damn it! This is impossible! We've only entered one hut." I objected. The rest of the squad were still hustling toward the other target huts. The Phantom was rising, popping over the hills and settling down into the designated evac site. And suddenly tacstars were flashing all around the huts. A gang of armored, shielded Omnis were charging forward from the hive. The reaction team—terrific! The Phantom popped up and lunged forward at the O's, spraying the area with tacstars.

  "Fleetcom is now launching the strategic attack," Snow Leopard announced. "You've got less than a mark to evac the area. Antimats are on the way."

  "Deto!" I noted. "This won't do."

  "We'll have to have the Phantom nuke the hive before we do anything else," Dragon said.

  "More time wasted," Snow Leopard observed. "We don't know the reaction team is going to come at us like that. It's just a possibility. We'll be watching them with the eyemotes. It could be there'll be no reaction at all."

  "But we have to prep for it." I said.

  "Of course," Snow Leopard said, maddeningly calm. "We have to prep for everything. But you also have to decide what's likely and what's not likely. Why should they react so quickly? They're fat and happy. The natives are friendly. The O's suspect nothing."

  "Scut!"

  "Decision time is fast approaching to launch Operation Lotus. This will be the most massive attack Fleetcom has ever launched. We're going to destroy their fleet—all of it. And we're going to annihilate their downside installations—all of them."

  "And what about the natives—Gildron's people?"

  "There's nothing we can do about them. The question is does all of humanity survive or die. That's what we have to worry about. Nothing else."

  "They die, so we can live?"

  "That's correct. Now remember, if anyone asks, this is Operation Lily, and the target is Mongera. That's what everybody thinks, at this stage. The true target will be revealed only after we're in the hole. All right, let's get to work. Once we're launched, the whole squad will practice in the E-sim holo chambers, repeatedly, until we get it right. We'll be on Atom's Road, and the ES chambers are fully integrated. It's going to be a long trip—but when we get there, we'll be ready."

  "Atom's Road!" Dragon exclaimed. She was our first starship—an old friend.

  "Atom's Road," I repeated quietly. It was a good sign.

  ###

  "You remember my girl," Redhawk said. We were in the launch deck of the cruiser Spawn, docked with Atom's Road, and we were on vac run red, barreling our way into the hole, into the out and out to the in, cutting a terrifying artificial wormhole right into the heart of the cosmos, going further than anyone had gone before. And we weren't alone. Almost all of Fleetcom was with us and much of the ConFree Legion as well. Redhawk and I huddled in the shadows under a giant, icy black bird that was so grim and deadly that it seemed almost alive. I reached up and touched her frosty skin. The cenite armor was close to indestructible but it was so smooth and slick it seemed—almost liquid. I couldn't quite make out the shape. It was roughly delta-shaped, but it seemed to kind of fold in on itself just when you thought you had it. The damned thing was gigantic.

  "Is this…the same gal who took us to Augusta 6?"

  "That's right, Thinker. This is the Kiss." Redhawk looked up at her in adoration. His greasy, tangled red hair reached to his shoulders and his ratty, scruffy beard was in worse shape than ever, but his bright blue eyes were glowing. "She's my lover and she's one tough bitch. This is our honey. The Spawn will launch us, far beyond the Mantis planetary system, beyond the O's defensive systems. And Kiss will take us there—she's a long-range shuttle and she's invisible, completely cloaked. And if the O's do spot her, she'll make them wish they hadn't. I can promise you that." He ran a finger along her skin tenderly.

  "I remember the Kiss," I said. We had been through a lot together, the Kiss and I. Augusta 6, where we had rescued Tara, the Calgoran raid, the Camelora 7 raid where we had fought the O's with Holo-X and then slaughtered a large number of ConFree children—for their own good, of course. Odura, on our search for the origin of the White Death. That early raid on Pherdos, and the Santos recon where Priestess was horribly wounded. And Eiros 4, the ultimate mission, where we confronted KCA himself. Kiss was there for it all. She was always dependable, always there. And I knew Redhawk was the best pilot in the galaxy. Recon didn't use aircars any more—they used Phantoms. So, it was to be the Kiss. That was good. Atom's Road, Spawn and the Kiss. Those had to be good signs.

  "You can depend on me, Thinker. I'll be there for the evac. And if the O's attack, Kiss and I will kill them all, very quickly. You can depend on that too. Believe it!"

  "I believe you, Redhawk."

  "How's Priestess?"

  "She's fine. Back on Providence, raising our kid—Lester."

  "And your other wife? You've got a kid by her too, don't you?"

  "Yes. Millie. She's on Tough Love, a hospital ship that's accompanying our task force. Priestess is taking care of her kid, too—Andrea, my first daughter. How are you and Whit doing?"

  "Oh, we're happy. No kids yet. It's kind of, well, chaotic. I'm doing my thing, she's doing hers. She's working very hard at making a success of her shipping firm. She invested in an old starship and she's running cargo between Galgos and the Crista Cluster."

  "All legitimate?"

  "All legitimate! She doesn't want any more trouble with the Legion. If it works out she should retire rich—and no funny business required. She's still got this thing about money."

  "Well, she deserves it." Whit was one of us by now—she'd earned her place in our hearts, with blood.

  ###

  "Attention!" Dragon's voice snapped like a whip. Nine soldiers in camfax fatigues braced for inspection. We were in some nameless, cold cube deep in the labyrinth of Atom's cenite intestines, and it was time for me to look over the squad. I paused before the squad's Two.

  "Sir, Sweats, sir, deputy squad leader, Recon
Nine-Seven!" He was young and intense, short tawny hair, alert grey eyes.

  "Hello, Sweats. Good to see you again." I remembered him from Pherdos. Dragon had told me he was a first-class trooper, and a natural leader. I knew everybody in the squad had seen combat.

  "Sir, thank you sir!"

  Deadeye and Stormdawn were next, both doing a pretty good imitation of a Legion brace, looking perfectly comfortable in Legion camfax.

  "For your Queen," I said quietly. They remained frozen at attention, still in deathpaint. I wasn't worried about them. It was our enemies who should be worried.

  "Sir, Recon Five, Tourist, sir, Manlink specialist!" Curly brown hair, brown eyes, a finely chiseled face—he looked like a handsome young layabout who should have been decorating a beach somewhere. But here he was, all set to die for ConFree.

  "Good to see you too, Tourist. We're going to need that Manlink."

  "Sir, yes sir!"

  "Sir, Recon Six, Jo-Jo, sir!" He was a giant trooper with bulging biceps and a large head seemingly carved from granite. He looked like he had stepped right out of the stone age.

  "Glad you're on our side, Jo-Jo. Dragon tells me you almost beat him in arm-wrestling."

  "Sir! He's going down, sir. Sooner or later." He seemed very serious about it.

  "Sir, Recon Seven, Rabies, sir!" A pale, wiry dark haired trooper with wild eyes. A madman, I thought. We have lots of them in the Legion.

  "Your One is seriously disabled in an attack by six O's, who are overrunning his position," I said. "He orders you to abandon him and alert the rest of your unit. What do you do?"

  "I attack the O's to rescue him, and I break blackout to warn the rest of the unit." He seemed perfectly calm, and I had no doubt that was exactly what he would do.

  "Good," I said.

  "Sir, Recon Eight, Viper, sir!" A slender, attractive girl with short brown hair and glittering green eyes. Poisonous, I thought. Don't get too close.

  "You served on Pherdos?"

  "Sir. Yes, sir." Her face darkened. Pherdos—that was all the credentials she needed.

  "Sir, Recon Nine, Doctor Doom, sir, medic." A handsome Assidic male, classic features, slightly slanted eyes, high cheekbones, straight black hair, a delegate from the bloody past, carrying the genes of Saka the Invincible.

  "How are you, DD? I'm hoping we won't need your services."

  "Sir, yes sir! Me too."

  Redhawk was the last one, grinning like a fool.

  "Sir, Recon Ten, Redhawk, sir. Phantom pilot."

  "The Phantom pilot, you mean," I replied. "How's the bird, Redhawk?"

  "Ready to lift, sir. Any time!"

  "Good. Good. All right, troopers. You've been briefed on the mission. We're on our way to the other side of the galaxy, to rescue some female captives—Outworlders and Taka—from the O. We've got five marks to do the job, before all hell breaks loose. We're going to practice this op until we can do it in our sleep, and when we arrive there, we'll be ready. Now I know you're all volunteers but I want you to think about this. Why is the Legion doing this? Eight Outworlder captives and twenty-seven Taka, all female. All doomed—captives of the O. Well, I'll tell you why. It's because this is what the Legion does. We fight evil. That's what we do—that's all we do! And it doesn't matter how hard it is, how hopeless it is, how unlikely it is that we'll succeed. None of that matters. We fight evil, and we fight for those who stood by our side against the rest of the universe, and we rescue innocents from the gates of Hell. That's what we do, and if you ever have any doubts about your service to the people of ConFree, you remember this mission. It doesn't get any better than this. You can't die for a better cause than this. I'm proud to be serving with every one of you. Now let's get to work."

  ###

  I was on my knees in the Godmod, praying quietly to the Gods of Hell. Deadman and the Cross of the Legion adorned the bulkhead. It was stark and primitive, savage idols on cold cenite, pagan Gods for soldiers without souls. One last chance, for the dead. Icy sweat trickled down my flesh. My face was battered and cut and one hand was bleeding. My fatigues were soaked in sweat and I was still breathing hard. The ES sessions were getting harder and harder, but I was getting harder too—harder and stronger and faster. It was just like being shot in the heart, every time I saw Moontouch's image. I knew it was the same for Stormdawn and Deadeye. We were all exhausted, ready to drop. But we were getting better. That's all we did. We did the snatch, again and again and again, under all possible circumstances. It was never easy. Half the time we were all killed. It was so damned realistic it was terrifying. But we did those sessions again. And again. And again. Until we got it right. Then Snow Leopard would pull something else. It was maddening. But I didn't mind. I didn't care how hard it was. It was for a good cause.

  Deadman was looking down at me, and I was looking up at him. Generations of Legion soldiers had died for us. Now it was our turn. I whispered the words:

  "I am a soldier of the Legion

  I believe in Evil—

  The survival of the strong—

  And the death of the weak.

  I am the Guardian

  I am the sword of light

  In the dark of the night.

  I will deliver us from Evil.

  "I accept life everlasting

  And the death of my past.

  I will trust no Earther worm

  Nor any mortal man,

  But only the Mark of the Legion.

  I have burnt the Book of Laws

  To serve the Deadman's Cause

  As a soldier of the Legion…"

  My lips were chanting the words, but my mind was busy with another prayer. Grant me victory, Deadman! Let me liberate her, Deadman! Let me touch her again, only that, and I'll do the rest. Just get me there, that's all I need. Watch over her until I get there. That's my victory. Let me walk in that door and find her there and I'll do whatever you want, my whole immortal life.

  ###

  "Prep for ZA. Approaching target. No reaction from hostiles." Redhawk was maddeningly calm as the Phantom slowed and floated eerily towards the series of small hills. It was early morning out there, icy stars glittering overhead in deep black velvet, one horizon just starting to turn a faint violet. Adrenalin shot through my veins. My heartbeat speeded up. Red light bathed the interior of my helmet. My faceplate was covered with calm green stat boxes. All systems were active. Just a whisper, just a faint touch on the trigger of my E, and all my enemies would be blown to smithereens. I knew all the power of the Legion was with me. I did not fear the O's, but I feared what might happen to Moontouch. Deadeye and Stormdawn were beside me in the crash seats, A&A, fully armored and clutching their E's. I stole another glance out the armored plex, but it was pretty dark.

  "Prep to decar. Still no reaction." In view of the time constraints the plan had been altered. The Phantom was to drop right outside Moontouch's hut, and we'd be there in fracs. We weren't giving the O's any time at all to react. By the time they noticed us, we'd be on our way out—we hoped.

  "Decar!" The Phantom's assault door snapped open and I launched myself into a whirlwind of gritty dust, hitting the ground hard but upright. I bounded towards the hut buried in the hillside, recognizable only by the pulsing red outline of the doorway on my faceplate, courtesy of Sweety. My adrenalin was aflame but I checked elapsed time, 03 fracs since decar and I was there already! That beat the hell out of our initial time of 4 marks.

  "Cancel sim! Thinker, report to Snow Leopard. Squad, stand by." The scene before me vanished abruptly, leaving me half-blinded and still twitching in my A-suit in a featureless ES holo chamber, the holo sim lights fading.

  "Deto!" I cursed. "What the hell!" This was to be our last test run, and we were getting really good. Damn it! I popped open the chamber door and staggered down the corridor towards Control, ripping my helmet off. I was bathed in sweat, already. Can't we at least finish the damned exercise? It was our last chance.

  "Have a seat, Thinker." Snow Leop
ard didn't even look up from his seat before the d-screen squad console. He was reading a printout.

  "Was that really necessary?" I asked, collapsing into an airchair. "Couldn't you have let us finish the exercise?"

  "Yes it was and no I couldn't," Snow Leopard replied calmly. "We're running out of time, and you're going to have to brief your troops. I've just received new orders from Starcom." He put the printout aside and fixed his hot pink eyes on me. "You are not to fire unless fired upon."

  "What!"

  "You heard me. That's direct from Starcom. You're going to have to factor that in to your mission."

  "Factor it in? If we let them fire first, we're going to be dead! Factor that!"

  "Maybe. But those are the orders. It will apply to your squad, and to your Phantom. Do not fire unless fired upon."

  "Snow Leopard." I paused, desperate for some sign of sanity. "Why would Starcom give an order like that? That's crazy!"

  "I don't know why they would, Thinker. They give orders—not explanations. And we obey the orders. We don't question them. My experience is—that there are always reasons for orders like this. But it's not our business to ask."

  "If Starcom wants the mission to fail, why don't they just cancel it?"

  "Do you want to cancel it, Thinker? It's my understanding that Tara got you this mission over a lot of objections from Starcom. They probably wouldn't mind cancelling it."

  "No. I don't want to cancel." A hot rage was rushing over me. More obstacles. Nothing but obstacles, to be overrun, to be blasted to bits.

  "All right. You've got to brief your squad. First, let's revise the ops plan."

  Chapter 17

  Mantis