Homefall: Book Four of the Last Legion Series

by Chris Bunch

  The soldier roared laughter as the elephant stumbled back toward her mother, moaning.

  Still laughing, he turned, and met the eyes of Sunya Thanon.

  His laughter died, and his slung blaster slipped off his shoulder.

  But Thanon did nothing more than look at him.

  • • •

  The soldier backed down the corridor to a port, went through it hastily.

  “The question is,” Danfin Froude said to Njangu, “is what you plan on putting down the pipeline for our guests.”

  “Dunno,” Njangu said, evading Froude’s eyes. “Something that’ll take ‘em out quick.”

  “Logic would suggest a lethal gas,” Froude prodded. “That will prevent future problems.”

  “Yeh,” Njangu said. “And everybody in the circus, including half the Legion people aboard, will think that I’m a murderous bastard.”

  “Indeed,” Froude agreed. “First, I can reassure you most of them already have that opinion, and, secondly, a sleep gas is a deal harder to synthesize than something that does a nice, clean job of killing.”

  “I dunno,” Njangu said again.

  “Do think about it,” Froude said, smiling gently.

  • • •

  “You know,” Sunya Thanon whispered to Phraphas Phanon, “I have had a terrible thought.”

  “Kiss me and it will go away.”

  Thanon obeyed. “But it is still here.”

  “Then tell me about it.”

  “Perhaps this Coando that we seek … the land where elephant and man are equal and friends … really does not exist.”

  “I know it does,” Phraphas said firmly. “Just as I know we shall find it.”

  “Perhaps we are living in it,” Thanon said. “Living in it here and now, on this Big Bertha ship and with the circus, not knowing our luck.”

  “Do not think that, my love.”

  “All right,” Sunya said doubtfully. “At least I shall try not to.”

  • • •

  “I’ve decided,” Garvin announced, “this whole operation has become entirely too much of an adventure.”

  “Is ‘oo ready to go home and hide under the bed?” Darod teased.

  “Uh, no,” Garvin said, as Jasith came to mind. “Not quite yet.”

  “What you’ve got, troop, is low morale.”

  “You think so?” Garvin asked.

  “Yup,” Darod said, sliding out of her nightgown. “All you need is to get your little lights screwed out, and you’ll be perfectly ‘kay.”

  “Couldn’t hurt,” Garvin agreed.

  • • •

  Emton, looking for one of his cats, hoping the little idiot hadn’t wandered into this big-cat caging area, rounded a corner and froze in horror.

  Tia, the missing cat, was crouched across a corridor from the leopard cage. One leopard, Emton thought that evil black bastard Muldoon, was lying very close to the bars.

  Tia got up, and pranced close to the bars, and Muldoon swiped at her.

  “Tia! Come here!” Emton almost shouted.

  The black kitten looked at her supposed owner, made a sound like “prrt,” danced toward Muldoon, and avoided another strike.

  Emton darted forward and grabbed Tia.

  “You are stupid, truly stupid,” he scolded. “Big cats, wild cats absolutely hate little cats! What do you want, to be that monster’s dinner? Thin-sliced kitten?”

  Tia looked up at Emton and started purring.

  • • •

  “I think you might be able to use this,” Ristori told Garvin, handing him a key.

  “What is it?”

  “The key to the contraband arms cabinet you gave Tain Kaidu.”

  “How’d you get your hands on it?”

  “A simple plunge, with one hand, four straight phalanges to hook, and it was mine. That, by the way, is a copy. I returned the original to the Tain, and he never noticed.

  “I thought, thought, thought those guns might be useful in the coming days.”

  • • •

  “Well,” Njangu told Maev, “I think we’re as ready as we’re going to be.

  “Now all we need is a little external distraction for our guards.

  “A good healthy space battle would do just fine.”

  CHAPTER

  23

  Degasten/Ogdai

  The old theory, before Man went into space, was that someone in a spaceship or satellite had an innate advantage over his planet-bound enemy. This was the “gravity well” belief — the fighter on the ground would have to overcome gravity to get his missiles or ships on an equal plane for combat.

  The basis was from ancient wars, where the man on the clifftop or castle rampart could happily cock a snook and drop heavy things on the attacker below.

  In fact, it didn’t work out that way in space, since the “gravity well” proponents didn’t bother to consider that any ship bombarding an object on the ground would be in a predictable orbit. All the defender had to do was launch a flock of missiles into the orbit of that ship or satellite overhead, and matters would take their course.

  Sometimes, the old saw was true, just as sometimes the belief that “the bombers will always get through” was correct.

  But not often, and certainly not for Bayanti’s attack on Gegen’s stronghold of Ogdai.

  The fleet held about three AUs off Ogdai, and the elite first wave attacked.

  Their intent was to take geosynchronous orbits and bombard Gegen’s forces from space, especially his stronghold. Other ships were to orbit the world, taking targets of opportunity or assigned targets from Bayanti’s Command and Control craft.

  When everything was sufficiently pulverized, the troopships would land.

  Of course, neither of the “Protectorates” worried about the original inhabitants of Ogdai, although no nuclear devices were used, since Bayanti wanted to occupy turf that wasn’t gently glowing.

  Gegen, not being stupid, had laid careful defensive plans — several species of unmanned satellites, down to the completely antique kinetic variety, were positioned in various orbits around Ogdai, plus bases on all three of the planet’s moons.

  A swarm of patrol ships launched as soon as Bayanti’s fleet entered the Degasten system, plus Gegen already had about half his fleet offplanet.

  Gegen waited until Bayanti’s first wave was committed, and his computers could analyze their tracks. Then he struck. Well-emplaced missiles shot up from the planetary surface, and the waiting satellites were activated and went after their targets.

  Inner space was a horror of explosions, ships exploding, tearing apart, going out of control and pinwheeling down into gravity’s claws. Just out-atmosphere was a snarling dogfight of fighters, all control lost as they went after targets or tried to evade contact.

  Half a planetary day later, and the remnants of Bay-’anti’s first wave reeled back toward the fleet.

  Gegen’s ships dived back for their bases to rearm and wait.

  Bayanti raged on the bridge of his flagship, threatened commanders with relief, with being shot, accusing them of cowardice and treason.

  • • •

  “Now?” Garvin murmured into Froude’s ear. They were on the bridge of Big Bertha. Tain Kaidu watched the biggest screen worriedly, two of his soldiers behind him.

  Lounging near the rear of the bridge were Lir, Njangu, Maev, and Ben Dill.

  “Let’s give it time to develop a little more confusion,” Froude said.

  Bayanti feinted with his second wave, drawing Gegen’s forces offplanet. Then, escorted by three battleship squadrons, he sent in his attack transports. Ships slammed in, ramps dropped, and troops on foot and in Aerial Combat Vehicles got the hell away from the landing zone as ground-to-ground missiles hurtled in.

  Next, the units should have formed up for the attack.

  Instead, they just sat there, in tight defensive perimeters. Possibly their high commander had been killed and no one took charge, possibly that officer
froze in place.

  Bayanti’s troops were getting hammered, slaughtered as they sat, while Bayanti fumed again on his bridge.

  He fought for control, found it, studied his main tac screen, trying to figure what to do next.

  It took a while — describing the battle from afar suggests there was coherency, analyzable movement, instead of swirling madness.

  • • •

  Bayanti made a decision, ordered all frequencies to all of his ships opened, and ordered all combat ships of any configuration to attack, repeat attack.

  They were to swarm Ogdai, taking any target they could.

  Most of Bayanti’s warriors obeyed, and armed transports, light escorts, dived in-atmosphere, headed for the ground.

  Gegen’s antiaircraft systems broomed them from the skies, but there were more behind them.

  Gegen’s fortress was a mask of flame, the land around it fire and the shatter of crashed ships. But it seemed completely unharmed, its defenders still fighting hard.

  • • •

  “Now?” Garvin muttered again.

  “I think so,” Froude said.

  Garvin snapped his fingers.

  Tain Kaidu had an instant to turn, to see Njangu on his feet, two steps and in the air, feet together, lashing out.

  His neck snapped, and he chicken-flopped to the deck.

  One of his bodyguards had a pistol out, and Maev shot him. The other unslung his blaster, just as Lir’s knife buried itself in his throat.

  “Now, goddammit, why no fun for Ben Dill?” Ben asked plaintively.

  “Shaddup,” Garvin ordered. “Liskeard, get us out of here!”

  The ship captain obeyed.

  Just before the main screen blanked as Big Bertha jumped into hyperspace, Garvin saw a dot that was, in fact, a battleship, dive vertically into Gegen’s fortress, at the center of the swarm.

  “Shit!” Dill said, having seen the dive. “Wonder what happened? Wonder if they got Gegen?”

  “Dunno,” Garvin said, motioning to a talker, as the crazy blur of N-space surrounded them. “Don’t care. Got other stuff to worry about.”

  CHAPTER

  24

  N-space

  None of the dozen soldiers in their bay heard the quiet hissing begin. There should have been more off shift in the compartment, but the invasion wasn’t a calming influence.

  The gas was nonlethal. Later, Njangu was accused of getting softhearted or -headed, particularly by Ben Dill and Alikhan, especially considering, as Froude had suggested, how much simpler a killing gas like hydrogen cyanide was to manufacture.

  Yoshitaro protested, vainly, that he wasn’t getting sentimental, but was worried about the rather improvised piping springing a leak and killing people he cared about. “Although for somebody like you two, I’ll cheerfully make an exception,” he muttered.

  Only one soldier heard the noise before she was overcome. After a few minutes, a suited member of the Legion checked the compartment, nodded in satisfaction, and left the sprawled bodies for a cleanup detail.

  • • •

  Two soldiers trotted down a corridor, blasters ready. They didn’t look up, didn’t see Lucky Felip crouched behind a pressuring unit overhead. Aiming carefully with the small-caliber projectile weapon his father’s father had carried against the pranks of the biggers, he shot both of them in the head, then sneered at the memory of Lir’s caution in not arming him, back on Cayle IV.

  He jumped down onto one corpse, went looking for other targets.

  • • •

  The arms locker was open, and Running Bear was busily handing out weapons. He noticed, without much surprise, that more of the waiting people were from the circus than the Legion.

  • • •

  Seven Protectorates swept through one corridor in the animal caging. They whirled, hearing a growling, saw two bears charging them, huge-clawed paws sweeping the deck.

  They fired … but the bolts smashed into the creatures without effect. Then the bears were among them, slashing, tearing with their fangs.

  The sole survivor ran hard, put his back to a wall, and fired again.

  The creature coming at him, blood dripping from its mouth, was unhurt.

  The soldier went mad, spun his blaster and shoved the muzzle into his mouth, pulled the trigger.

  Meters away, the robot bear’s operator saw and threw up over her control panel.

  • • •

  Now the “Peace March” boomed through the ship, and the troupers went looking for weapons.

  • • •

  A soldier was backing down a corridor, blaster ready, his mate in front of him.

  He didn’t hear a hatch slide open. Then a soft voice said:

  “Remember me?”

  He spun, saw Sunya Thanon, a handler’s billhook in his hand. The hook slashed in, took him in the eye, and smashed him to the ground. Thanon twisted the hook free, drove it deep into the man’s throat.

  “And how does that taste?” he asked.

  The man’s partner had his gun up as Phraphas Phanon shot him through the open hatch.

  “I do not feel bad,” Thanon said. “That was for all the cruelties we have taken.”

  Phraphas Phanon shook his head.

  “That is not good, that is not the Way. But I do understand.”

  • • •

  Somehow the horses’ enclosure had been sprung, and animals galloped in panic back and forth across the huge show area.

  Rudy Kweik and his wives were among them, trying to bring them under control.

  A soldier saw a shot, fired at Kweik. He missed, but the bolt sent splinters up from the metal deck into Kweik’s legs. He shouted, went down.

  The soldier took aim to finish the man.

  High overhead, in the rear of the control blister, Darod Montagna shot once, and the man spun back, fell dead.

  She grinned humorlessly, looked for other targets.

  • • •

  Half a dozen Protectorates were crouched behind an improvised barricade. They heard growling, snarling, and saw Alikhan, flanked by Ben Dill.

  One fired, and the two Legionnaires ducked for cover.

  An overhead hatch opened, and Monique Lir dropped down onto the deck, Squad Support Weapon firing.

  The soldiers tried to return fire, were too late.

  One came into the open, and Alikhan dropped him with his acid-pistol, burning a head-size hole in his chest.

  Ben Dill looked for a target, saw nothing but bodies.

  “Aw, goddammit!” he growled. “You went and did it to me again!”

  • • •

  Erik Penwyth shot two soldiers down, thought they were both dead, trotted forward.

  One rolled to his side, fired, and the round seared along Erik’s side. He shouted in pain, went down, hand reflexively pulling a grenade from his weapons harness, thumbing it into life, and rolling it against the soldier.

  The man reached for the grenade, didn’t make it as it went off, tearing him almost in half.

  “Medic,” Penwyth moaned. “Goddamnit, medic!”

  • • •

  The soldier ran hard down the corridor, away from the nightmare that had killed three of his fellows, a man with his face and chest painted in black-and-white stripes, stripped to the waist, wearing only a leather diaper and leggings. The horror had shot down two of the soldier’s companions with a pistol, hurled a small ax into the middle of the third’s face.

  The soldier had fled, hoping to find the exit from this ship, from these alien people.

  Something moved ahead of him, something small and black. He fired, missed, and the animal darted around a corner.

  He ran on behind it, away from that monster behind him.

  The soldier saw the animal again, no bigger than his arm, running hard, close to a cage. He had his blaster ready to club it down when a black, clawed foreleg flashed out, caught his uniform, pulled him against the barred cage.

  An instant later, Muldoon�
�s hind leg tore at his neck, and blood gouted.

  Tia came back around a corner, saw the body, and began purring loudly. An echoing purr came from Muldoon as he curled up, lifted his hind leg, and began cleaning it.

  • • •

  A soldier crouched in the center ring, behind a clown cart, trying to get a shot at Darod, high above.

  He didn’t see the ra’felan’s tentacle until it had him around the waist. He tried to turn, to shoot at the octopod, then the ra’felan smashed him against a bulkhead.

  The ra’felan considered whether it bothered him to have killed, decided not, swung back up into the top of the hold, looking for another soldier.

  • • •

  The shouts echoed down the corridors, louder than the booming “Peace March.”

  “Rube!”

  “Hey, Rube!”

  The circus troupe, some with blasters, some with improvised weapons, combed their ship for the soldiers.

  Two circus people were wounded, five died, but all of their panicked guards died.

  • • •

  “All right,” Garvin said. “That’s that. Dump the ones we gassed into a lifeboat and kick it out into normal space.

  “Damned if I care where it ends up.”

  “Your orders, sir?” Liskeard asked.

  “Make the first jump for Centrum,” Garvin said, thinking that was probably as close to a historic statement as he’d ever make.

  “Right,” Liskeard said, then stopped. “Sir, could we hold for a second? I’ve got to check with my electronics people.”

  Garvin frowned, losing the historical moment.

  “Go ahead.”

  Liskeard touched sensors, and a mike swung down. He spoke into it, listened, then nodded.

  “Sorry I didn’t report this before, sir. But our electronics people have picked up a stray transmission.”

  “From where?” Garvin asked.

  “From us. They’ve tried to track it down, but sans results.”

  Garvin blinked.

  “Going where?”

  “We don’t know that, either. But it happens as we jump, then again when we come out of hyperspace.”

  “I want to see that report,” Garvin said. “Right away. And hold on the jump.”

  He waved the nearest talker over.