"I'm sorry, Tara. Why don't you quit? Why don't you just quit? You deserve some peace and quiet."
She gave me a very weak smile. "I can't do that, Wester. I told you, I've got the cross of the Legion cut into my heart."
###
I crawled, through the night, through my nightmares. Was it real, or just a terror in the night? I never knew. I was snaking wearily through a field of oily mud, under a dark sky. Pherdos! The sky flickered occasionally with deceptors and antimat.
"Tenners, are you clear?" Priestess asked me on the tacnet, breathing right in my ears. I knew she was out there somewhere, and it made it all the more crazy. A few lasers cracked overhead. A tacstar erupted on the horizon, electric blue, suddenly illuminating a corpse lying right in my path. A woman, swollen and putrid, blue skin falling off one petrified arm, crawling with maggots, awful fingers still scratching at the sky.
Again. Again! Again! How many more times would she visit me? I knew it was a nightmare now, and I struggled to climb out of it, to crawl away from her. She moved—had she moved, or was it only the wind? She wanted to say something to me, I knew. Don't leave me! Help me! How could I help her? She was dead. She was long past dead. Why should she return now, to haunt me? Pherdos was a long time ago. I had crawled past her, anxious only to leave her behind, to get that Systie airtank.
I didn't know her name. I didn't know anything about her. She was a nameless victim of Systie aggression. She had been unarmored—a civilian, slaughtered at random. I had a glimpse of a silky blouse and a golden ring. Somebody had loved her, I knew. Somebody was grieving her loss. Maybe she had been young and beautiful. She certainly didn't deserve to die. But it wasn't my fault. Why was her memory haunting me? I had only seen her corpse for a few fracs.
Movement, behind me! She was struggling to get up! She wanted me to come back, I knew!
I awoke with a gasp, thrashing my arms around, hot and sweaty. Priestess was with me, restraining me, her cool slim arms around mine.
"Thinker! It's all right, I'm here. What is it?"
I collapsed against the pillow, exhausted. "Sorry. It was that…corpse. The woman. Pherdos."
"Again? Why do you keep coming back to that, Thinker?"
"I'm damned if I know. I think…she wanted to tell me her name."
"Oh no."
"Yeah."
"It's not your fault, Thinker. You can't save the entire galaxy, all by yourself."
"I know. I don't want to."
"Maybe you should let her tell you her name. Maybe it will end then."
"Easy for you to say. She's pretty scary."
"Try to relax, Thinker. You're getting pretty scary yourself."
###
"Thinker? Priestess. Get over to the Body Shop right away. Fourth level, recovery pod." Priestess cut the contact abruptly. It was early morning and I had just arrived at my cube in Galactic Information. She had sounded a bit stressed. I got up and hustled over to the Body Shop.
Priestess was in the recovery pod, monitoring a wall of glowing d-screens with several other medics and nurses. It was quiet and spotless and orderly.
"What's up, Priestess?"
She pointed wordlessly to one of the d-screens, labelled RR2C. It showed a lovely little blonde girl, lying still on the airbed, covers up to her neck, eyes closed. Gravelight. It was Gravelight!
"What happened?" I asked.
"Suicide attempt," Priestess replied. "Last night. She used cyro. We were lucky. We got there in time, and pumped her system. I knew you worked with her on Mongera. I thought you'd want to know."
"Deadman. How did you find her in time? I thought cyro worked pretty fast."
"It does. But when a psycher is dying, it's a traumatic event. And their minds send out some kind of mental scream. Of course, nobody can hear it except another psycher. Tara was awakened in the middle of the night, and went charging over there and broke down the door and found her and called emergency."
"Tara!"
"Yup."
"Well, thank Deadman for Tara. The poor kid. She was in bad shape on Mongera. I guess it was just too much for her."
"She's certainly not the first psycher to decide to check out, permanently."
"Do you want me to talk with her?"
"No. It's not necessary. We've got somebody else."
"Who's that?"
"Remember Commander Val? From the Coldmark expedition?"
"Val! Yeah, I do. He had a thing for Gravelight, as I recall."
"He still does. We thought it might help for her to see him. She's conscious now." A nurse appeared on the d-screen, leaning over Gravelight, saying something to her that we could not hear. Gravelight blinked her eyes and opened them, gazing into space, her child's face expressionless.
Val appeared in the doorway, in camfax fatigues, hesitant. I remembered him well from our Coldmark adventure—a tall, rangy Outworlder with reddish hair. He cautiously approached Gravelight's bed and paused, looking down at her. The nurse pulled a little chair over to the bed for Val, said something to him, and left the room. Gravelight was looking at him, but no emotion showed. Val settled into the chair.
"How are you feeling?" he asked. Priestess had turned up the volume.
Gravelight did not respond. She was looking directly at him.
"Do you remember me?" Val asked. "My name's Val—from the Coldmark expedition."
"I remember you."
"Are you feeling better?"
"No." She was pale and looked terrible.
"Why did you do this?"
"I want to die."
"Why? You're so young. You have everything to live for."
"I want to die. And I'm not so young. I've seen too much. I don't want to see any more."
"Suicide is not the answer. If you want to change your life, you can change your life. You have the power to do it."
"I know. That's why I took the cyro. I wanted to change it. I wanted to end it."
"You don't have to end it. You can change your life without ending it. You don't have to continue working as a psycher for the Legion. You can quit—any time you want."
"Easy for you to say. I'm a psycher. That's all I am, that's all I'll ever be. Quit the Legion? What will I do? Work as a fortune teller on some frontier world? Rent myself out to a criminal syndicate? No. I've failed in life, I've failed the Legion, I've failed in my profession, I've failed myself. And the nightmares are slowly killing me anyway. I want to die. And nobody can stop me."
"I'm going to stop you."
"No, you're not. Get out of here. I want to be alone."
The rest of the nurses and medics gathered around the d-screen, silently watching the drama unfolding in Recovery Room 2C.
"I don't think you want to be alone, Gravelight."
"You're wrong. Leave me alone."
Val reached out to her and gently picked up one of her hands and held it in both of his. "Your hand is so cold," he said. "The last time I touched you was on Coldmark. I've never forgotten it." Gravelight did not respond, but she did not pull her hand away either.
"Gravelight…you must know how I feel about you. You must."
"Yes." It was almost a whisper.
"I want to help you, Gravelight."
"You can't help me." Another whisper.
"Yes, I can. I want to change your life. And I won't need any cyro to do it."
"I'm a psycher. You can't help me. Nobody can help me."
"You're wrong. I'm going to change your life, if you'll let me."
"I'm a psycher, you're a deadhead. There's nothing you can do."
"Yes, there is. I love you, Gravelight. I've loved you since the day I first saw you. You know that. You've got to know that. There's nothing I want in this world, any more, except to live with you. I want you to be my wife. I don't want you to be a psycher any more. I want you to quit the Legion, and become my wife. I'll quit the Legion too, if I have to. We'll make a new life, both of us. Together. You and me, psycher and deadhead—and the re
st of the world can burn in Hell!"
Gravelight was not looking at him any more, but her eyes were filling with tears—that was obvious.
"You have no idea how difficult it is," Gravelight gasped. "These demons are with me always!"
"I'll be right beside you, for the rest of time. We'll fight the demons together!"
"Impossible…" she sighed, seemingly exhausted. "We're too different. I'm a psycher, you're a deadhead. We can't…"
"It's worse than that," Val said. "You want to talk about differences? I'm male, you're female. We're almost different species, already. I don't care if you're a psycher! I'm not worried about that at all. I'm not afraid. How about you?"
"You can't…no, I'm alone. I'm all alone, in the dark. And you can't help."
"You don't have to be alone. I'm right here, and I'm not leaving."
"I…I…I can't ask you…"
"You're not asking anything. I'm asking. Gravelight, will you marry me? Will you be my wife, forever?" He grasped her hand tightly before him, almost as if praying. The tears were overflowing from Gravelight's eyes now.
"I…I…"
"Say yes, and I'll never leave your side. I promise!"
She looked into his eyes, almost as if hypnotized, blinking through the tears. "I…I…Oh yes. Yes!" Val reached out and embraced her. One of the nurses gasped, and another was dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. Priestess was beaming with joy. What a morning! A happy ending for Gravelight? I sure hoped so. But I knew deadheads and psychers couldn't live together. Tara had told me so.
Chapter 22
The Empire of the Eye
Priestess asked me something but I was lost in a happy dream, warm thrills running over my flesh with the pulsing, mystical rhythm of Dead Dogs, like an insistent salt water wave. We were in Alpha Station's main officer's club, the lights were way down, the place was packed, and starry little lights were twinkling from every snowy white table. The band was Skull, a ragged gang of war vets who had seen it all and put it all into their music, wild pulsing ionic lektra and penetrating autokey that hit me right in the heart.
"What?" I asked. We were both in formal blacks, taking a break after participating in a frantic conga line that had torn through the kitchens and out into the corridor and back, picking up cooks and bystanders along the way. Now we were back in the ballroom and everyone was screaming, singing and clapping along with Skull. What a lovely, angelic lead singer they had. She had a voice as clear as a bell. It was our long-delayed celebration of the conclusion of the unexpectedly blood-free Operation Mantis, and we were sure in a mood to celebrate.
"Happy?" she shouted, squeezed my hand. I squeezed back. She was absolutely lovely. How could I not be happy? Things were finally going our way, it appeared. Thunderous applause erupted as the band paused between songs.
"Follow me," I said, pulling Priestess up and heading for the terrace. On the way out, we passed Dragon and Cze-Lu at their table. Cze-Lu had eyes only for Dragon, but Dragon spotted us and waved lazily. He sure looked happy.
It was a fresh, cool night outside. We paused on the terrace that ran along the ground-floor officer's club, flanked by a long row of dato trees. Andrion 2's lone moon glimmered overhead, casting a lovely silvery glow over the scenery. The heavens were full of stars, milky fields of stars just like sheets of diamonds, winking high overhead. Skull was still serenading us from the ballroom but it was quieter out here. There were a few other couples leaning along the low railing. I found a good place under a dato tree and we were alone.
"What's going to happen, Thinker?" Priestess asked. She held my hand like a vice. She looked fixedly out at the stars, almost as if she could read the future out there.
"I don't know. I don't care."
"How can you not care?"
"There's nothing I can do. Nothing we can do. All we can do is go with whatever happens, and pray to Deadman that it works out for us."
"Is Tara going to be executed?"
"I don't know. All of Starcom is being questioned and investigated. The question is, was Mantis a brilliant success or a disastrous failure? I don't think anyone knows the answer yet."
"What do you think?"
"I initially thought it was a horrible failure. But I'm beginning to think Tara may have been right. Perhaps there's more to life than just killing your enemies. Maybe it's just as smart to get them to stop killing you."
"It's insane. She'll either be executed, or commended. Let's get out, Thinker. I've said it before. Let's quit."
I was silent. Priestess in moonlight. What a lovely sight.
"Are we going to declare war on the System again?" she asked. "I haven't been keeping track."
"I don't think so. Unless they provoke it. We're doing it differently this time. We've gone on a propaganda offensive, informing the entire inhabited galaxy of the System's guilt for Asumara and for Mongera, provoking our war with Asumara and provoking the O's to attack ConFree. We've broken diplomatic relations with the United System Alliance and all their subject worlds, and cut off all trade with them as well. ConFree has declared that the System and all their minions are henceforth considered as hostile states, and that a situation of undeclared war has been proclaimed. Any Systie starships that appear in ConFree vac will be attacked and seized. Let's see, what else?"
"No trade, huh? Isn't that going to screw them up pretty badly?"
"It is. I've been told their economy is very dependent on trade with ConFree—we're the galactic economic powerhouse. And we can get along perfectly well without them. Let's see—oh yeah! We've recognized the Biogen Liberation Front officially and have begun discussing military cooperation with them. The Systies went crazy when they heard that, as the Hyades is right in their backyard. We've unilaterally declared that our access to the Hyades Cluster is to be via a star track we call the Dark Cloud/Pleiades Corridor. Any Systie interference with ConFree star traffic to or from the Hyades via the DCPC will be followed by a declaration of war and all that entails. And there's been a joint declaration by ConFree and the Dark Cloud Alliance that plans are underway for closer relations. In addition, we've made it clear that we welcome closer relations with the Pleiades Association."
"It all sounds pretty good."
"Shut down and give me a kiss. I don't give a damn about the future." We played kissy-face for awhile, and she almost sucked my tongue right out of my mouth. It was warm and cozy, heart against heart, Skull blasting away in the background, cool breezes whispering through the dato trees overhead.
"We're on heightened alert," I said, enunciating the words carefully with my damaged tongue, "and we're sending fast reaction patrols into the Gulf to stamp out any further trouble that appears. Also, we've got a new policy for the Outworlder diaspora. It's called Reunification. We send delegations to any world that agrees, and we interview and sign up all Outworlder and Assidic families that want to leave, and meet our criteria. Then we transport them to the Crista Cluster. We need more population for the Outvac, but we must ensure that they are all Outworlders or Assidics that share our vision for the future. We don't want Outworlders or Assidics that have accepted slavery under the System, or those who are so confused or indoctrinated that they don't know what slavery is."
Priestess took a bite out of my earlobe, and then went after my neck. So enthusiastic, I thought.
"Ouch!" I exclaimed. "Are you listening to me?"
"And where do we find these people?" Priestess asked calmly. "I mean, considering that the System is hostile to us?"
"We find them on any world that agrees to host our delegations. Even Systie worlds, if they agree. In return, they get a loosening up of the trade restrictions if they allow their Outworlders to leave. And maybe an overall improvement in relations, for that particular world, if they want it. Sure, they'll lose some potential tax slaves, but they'll lose their dissident population, too. They might even look at it as a plus. I think it's a brilliant idea. We liberate the diaspora, without bloodshed."
"Well,
it's better than endless war."
"Yes. It is."
"But speaking of bloodshed, your ear is bleeding."
"And whose fault is that?" I asked.
"Yes, I did it. I'm sorry. I think you should punish me. Maybe take me into some private place where nobody can see you abuse me."
"You're not interested in what I've been saying, are you?"
"Oh I am. Really. What happened to that Orman? The fellow Tara is looking for. Guinn something."
"Zharzha Guinn. He's gone. There's some evidence that he may have headed for the Gulf Union, but we don't know for sure. We've put out a one million credit bounty for him, alive, or a half million for his body. That really should do the trick."
"So, the situation is really very good, for us, isn't it?"
"Yes. It's scary," I said.
"Why scary?"
"I've lived my life thinking our mission was hopeless, the Legion was fighting the entire galaxy, and we were all doomed to die. That was even official Legion policy. The mission isn't accomplished until you're killed. Remember that?"
"Sure."
"We were going to invade the Inners, free all the slave worlds, and kill all those Systie government officials, judges and lawyers. And that would take decades. We were going to fight forever, if necessary. Remember that?"
"Yup."
"Well that's all over, now. We're back in the Outers, it seems. And, for the most part, minding our own business."
"For the most part. The System doesn't make it easy."
"No. They don't. But I worry, now. Maybe there is hope for us, after all. I never had to worry about that before."
"Can we go back to Veltros?" Priestess asked.
"I don't know. We can ask, I guess. What's the latest from the kids?"
"LiLo is taking good care of them. Millie is still stuck on Dindabai, but she's asked for a transfer back to Veltros so she can take care of them until we get back."
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