Cross of the Legion

by Marshall S. Thomas

  "Better!"

  "Trooper—" he said, glaring at me, "I have examined Galactic Information's ops plan and concluded it is feasible. However, it's going to be up to you to make it work."

  "Yes sir!"

  "Can you do it?"

  "Yes sir!"

  "Good. The future of the human race may very well be decided by the outcome. That's a grave responsibility. Tara tells me you're up to it. Total success is the only acceptable result. Are you willing to accept those limits?"

  "Yes sir!"

  "Good." A buzzer sounded on his desk. "Yes."

  "The Capella people are here, sir."

  "Show them in. Thinker, Tara—report back to me upon successful completion of the mission."

  "Yes sir," Tara said quietly.

  "Yes sir!" I snapped off another salute. He returned it listlessly. As we reached the door he called after me.

  "Thinker."

  "Yes sir?" I paused in the doorway.

  "Good luck."

  "Yes sir!"

  Tara rushed me back into the elevator, down to ground level and into an aircar for a fast ride to the starport, where we were hustled into a shuttle. I settled into a seat beside Tara and the shuttle began rolling almost immediately, then lifted, wheeling over the port, gaining speed. Raindrops streaked past the plex of the passenger windows. The nuclear roar faded away as we broke through the sound barrier, heading for the vac. The flight was almost deserted—just Tara and me and a few others. I spotted Delta Two, sitting several rows behind us.

  "Doesn't he ever leave you alone?" I asked.

  "It's his job."

  "What would he do if I molested you?"

  "Wester…"

  I put an arm around her and pulled her close and gave her a wet sloppy kiss on the ear. She giggled and blushed and put a hand on my knee.

  "Stop it, Wester! That was a long time ago. Too long. A million years ago—back when we were both human. But we're not now. We are both…slaves of the Legion. And we've got a mission to fulfill. There's no time to play."

  I sighed, and released her. "All right. Why don't you tell me about it. Especially since I so enthusiastically told Two Two One I would do it or die. Exactly what have I agreed to?"

  "You were perfect back there, Wester."

  "Yeah—nothing to it. All you have to do with people like that is say 'yes sir' nine or ten times. It requires no thought and they love it. Next time please brief me on the mission before I discuss it with your superior, not after."

  "Sorry, Wester. There was no time. Well, we'll be in orbit soon. I believe they're stopping at Quaba Fleet Dock first, and dropping off some cargo and passengers. Then we'll be moving off to our destination."

  "Which is?"

  "It's in distant orbit—not too far. I'll explain everything once we're there. You'll see."

  "You never change, Tara. What's your new job, anyway? That's a nice office you've got back there."

  "Didn't anybody tell you? I'm Chief of Galactic Information for the Outvac. I'm a commander now. It's an important position, Wester. But for the moment there's only one piece of information the Legion wants from me. And that's the data on the White Death. If I can't give them that, I'm history. That data is located on Chudit, Wester—and you're going to get it for me. I'm sending you to Chudit."

  Chief of Galactic Information for the Outvac! Tara's rehabilitation was complete. Only a few years ago she was breaking rocks with me in a Legion stockade. And now she was hobnobbing with the Chief of the 22nd Legion. Quite a comeback!

  "Well that's fine, Tara. Congratulations. Let me know when you're ready to tell me how I'm going to get this information for you—and how I'm going to visit a world that's no longer there. What are we going to do? Search every asteroid in Chudit's former orbit? That shouldn't take longer than a couple of thousand years. Humanity might be dead by then, at the rate we're going."

  "No, Wester. We're not going to do that. Just relax. I'll tell you everything once we arrive. Now I'd like a few moments of peace and quiet." And she pushed her seat back and closed her eyes and was asleep in moments.

  ***

  "Permission to come aboard," Tara said.

  "Granted. Welcome aboard, Commander." The boarding officer gave us a sharp salute and a recording piped us aboard. According to the inscription on the bulkhead of the boarding dock, we were entering the Confederate transport Lifeline. It was spotless and evidently brand new. I had not heard the name before. A brace of Fleetcom vacheads accompanied us along a bright, gleaming corridor, led by a Fleetcom Commander. He seemed to know Tara. That was odd—a transport did not rate a flag officer.

  "We're going to the launch bay, Wester," Tara said. "What I want to show you is there."

  "Whatever you say."

  "Wester, this is Commander Sento Alran. His sole mission is to support you."

  "That's right, Thinker," the commander said. "We're here to make your mission a success. Anything you need, you come see me." He was in Fleetcom black, a tall trooper with short blond hair and icy blue eyes.

  "Yes sir," I said. "Thank you."

  The launch bay hatches hissed open and we found ourselves on a walkway that ran around the bay. The great bay was dark except for the creature inside. It was a massive ship, dead black but glowing a pale violet in the spotlights. I could see instantly that the launch bay was built especially for this ship, and that the C.S. Lifeline itself must have been special-built as a launching platform for this exotic bird. She was perhaps four times the size of one of our Phantoms. Her lines were different. The shape was vaguely delta, but it did not look like it was built for the at. Also I could see no cockpit or viewports. It appeared to be sealed. An awesome, lovely thing, a cruel Legion lady, a deadly dark bat from the bowels of Hell—that much was evident in a single glance. Then I followed her lines to the front and I understood. A long, thick boom led to a bulbous, oval nose.

  I closed my eyes as my fingers gripped the cold railing of the walkway. Tara was at my side, silent, letting me soak it up. Finally she spoke.

  "What do you think, Wester? Isn't she beautiful?"

  "This is a D-neg time-drive starship, Tara."

  "That's right, Wester. You're looking at the Confederate Ship Salvation. She's a drone. There's no crew. We control her from here."

  "How is this going to help us?"

  "I'm about to tell you."

  "I thought you said the Legion had decided against building any more D-neg time drive starships."

  "I didn't say that, Wester. You've got to listen. I said we had decided against rebuilding a copy of the Star of Dindabai—in light of what we had learned about the physics of time travel."

  "I see."

  "We've built…more than one…of these little ladies."

  "Drones."

  "Drones."

  "What good does that do us? Observation?"

  "Better than that. Do you remember the realtime starlink I used to communicate with you after we found you washing dishes on Nimbos? The one you refused to believe?"

  "Yes. I refused to believe it because it would have meant faster than light transmissions—and that's impossible."

  "But it worked, didn't it?"

  "Sometimes."

  She laughed. "Teething problems. It worked, Wester. And it works better now. Do you recall what made it work?"

  "Something to do with quantum effects."

  "That's right—quantum entanglement. As Whit told you at the time, we did not violate the speed of light. We simply avoided it. We went somewhere it doesn't apply. If you separate quantum particles that were once together you have a quantum connection. Once you're in the quantum world, things change. You can use the quantum particles to send signals via that connection—instantaneously—even from a hundred light years away. Or a thousand. The quantum connection always applies, no matter what the distance. It's not really superluminal, but in effect it is. We used it for instantaneous text signalling, for instantaneous voice signalling, for instantane
ous vid signalling, and then…well, I'll show you. Follow me."

  ***

  A young tech in a lab coat rose to greet us as we entered the installation. I recognized it immediately. It was a Holo-X control room, but it appeared a bit larger and more complex than the last one I'd seen.

  "Wester, this is Jason. Jason, Wester. His war name is Thinker. Get to know each other. You're going to be spending a lot of time together."

  "Glad to meet you at last!" Jason said. "Everything's ready." He was a slender, intense youth with straight longish hair, wearing a single Legion cross earring, and he grinned at me in unrestrained delight.

  "You know how the Holo-X concept works, Wester," Tara said. "You've used it in combat successfully. You'll be using it on this mission as well. With a few changes. This is how we do it: All the output—your image and all the data to form your holo at the target site—is channeled into a quantum duplicator, rather than being focused directly onto the target. The quantum duplicator then transfers all that information—instantaneously—to its sister unit in the C.S. Salvation. The Salvation is equipped with a descrambler that takes those quantum signals and switches them back to Holo-X images. The images are then transmitted downside to the target from the Salvation, through a regular Holo-X transmission, and your image forms there—instantaneously. The Holo-X receiver sensors copy the local environment and flash it back to the Salvation via the holo link. It is then fed into the quantum duplicator and transferred via the quantum connection to its sister unit in our ship. The unit descrambles it, transmits it to the Holo-X receiver, and the Holo-X unit forms the local environment around you, in your E-sim chamber, here on board. Again, instantaneous. We've tried it, Wester. It works—perfectly. We can't visit the far past personally, but we can now do it via Holo-X. We're sending the C.S. Salvation to Chudit, in the very distant past. The quantum connection is just as instantaneous from the far past to the present as it is from site to site in the present. We're sending you there, Wester. You're going to visit Chudit. You're going to walk around there as a holo, and find out how those people beat the plague. The Legion has put a fortune into this technology. Now it's up to you."

  "This is incredible, Tara." I looked around the control center as the impact of what she was saying slowly sank in. "You've opened up the entire past to time travel. And we're not even going to have to leave this room!"

  "That's right. And this technology is cosmic secret. You can't tell anyone who's not cleared—not even Priestess."

  "I've never understood this, Tara. You're going to aim the Salvation at…the orbit where Chudit used to be. But…a hundred thousand years ago, Chudit was nowhere near here. It was probably on the other side of the Galaxy, and the Galaxy was unimaginably distant from where it is now. How do you…"

  "God works in strange ways, Wester. The mathematics of the cosmos is…elegant. Beautiful. Miraculous. We could hardly believe it, when we discovered it. It's the Galactic Field. That's what we named it. It's one of the most powerful forces in our universe. Once you penetrate the time warp, you are riding the Galactic Field, right into the past. It's like a quantum leap, bypassing everything that has happened since your target date. You're trapped in the Field, until you power your way out. You're right there in the past, wherever it was. It's almost impossible to describe. But it's truly…miraculous."

  "Well, you've done it again, Tara. Deadman, this is amazing!"

  "It's all going to be meaningless unless you are successful, Wester. We've had one ship out there for close to a month, observing. But observing won't do it. The C.S. Lifeline is getting underway to the operational area as soon as I depart ship. The C.S. Salvation will then be launched, to replace the current time ship, which is strictly a recon craft. And when the Salvation arrives at the target, your mission begins. We've got a lot of info for you to absorb. Your briefings start immediately. Are you ready?"

  "Yes, I'm ready. You must be tired, Tara."

  "Yes—I'm ready to drop. But I can't stop until we are successful. Don't fail me, Wester."

  "I'll get what we need."

  "Goodbye, Wester. It's up to you now. Good luck! Jason—whatever he wants! Wester…"

  "Yes?"

  She traced a Legion cross over my face.

  "Go with God."

  Chapter 11

  Millie the Mole

  There—perfect!" Alpha Six gave my hair one last dab with the hotcomb and stepped back to admire her work. She was a shapely blonde with very short hair and striking grey eyes. Her warname was Apples. I looked into the mirror. My naturally wavy hair was now straight and considerably thicker, done in a curious bowl cut, the sideburns chopped off, the back of my neck all shaved. My skin was several shades darker. I certainly looked different.

  "All right!" Jason exclaimed. "You look just like one of those school kids in the recon shots!"

  I got out of the chair and examined my image in the mirror critically. I was wearing a loose grey smock that fell almost to my knees, with sleeves that cut off some distance above the wrists, tight black trousers with slits at the ankles, and chunky, silvery airweight plastic shoes. I did indeed look a lot like many of the young layabouts we had seen in the shots. The humans of Sagitta were physically similar to us, and Chudit's culture seemed remarkably laid-back and quiet. No fanatic religious zealots, no mad power-hungry politicals, no crazy dress codes. The place was fascinating.

  Our recon ship, hovering above Chudit in the distant past, had collected millions of remarkable images of the planet. None of the images gave us even a hint of the White Death, or how the authorities had countered it. We did not know exactly when the plague had struck Chudit—or Rima 2, as the natives called it—but we did have a general idea. We were targeting an estimated hundred years or so after the event—slightly before the fateful day in 988 AF when Chudit intersected the orbit of the rogue asteroid Gargantua.

  The images of Chudit were by then burnt into my brain. So was the language. The probe had been listening as well as observing. I was ready—as ready as anyone could be to plunge into the past. The Salvation was poised above the planet, invisible and fully operational. The Legion had put everything into this one. The fate of humanity might very well be determined by the results of this mission.

  It had been over a month since I had seen Tara—a month with very little sleep. And even when I was asleep, the psymon was on and Control was whispering the language into my ears, into my brain. I was ready. I was burning with determination.

  I knew I must not fail.

  "All set?" Jason was at the controls. Several spectators hovered behind an observation port—Commander Alran and a few others. It was time. I looked over to the open doorway of the E-Sim Holo-X chamber.

  "Let's do it." I walked in and took up my position, standing in the exact center of the ES chamber. A featureless white dome loomed overhead. The door sealed itself behind me.

  "Commo check," Jason whispered in my ears.

  "Ten high," I responded.

  "Ten high," Jason confirmed. "All links report ready status. Target acquired. Quantum links live; Holo-X live. Initiating circuit."

  The dome flickered and flashed and vanished. I was suddenly in a thick forest, and I almost fell as my shoes hit a wet mossy carpet of rotted leaves. Great dark trees rose all around me. I reached out for one of them to regain my balance. I could feel the texture of the bark. Sunlight shone through the leafy canopy above me. It was slightly cool—delightfully cool, I decided. The Holo-X adjusted itself to reflect it. The entry coordinates rippled across my vision in red. A drop of water hit my temple and dribbled down my face. A thrill crept over my flesh. I was more than a hundred thousand stellar years in the past, and walking the surface of a long-dead world—a world that no longer even existed. And I was suddenly terrified. Last chance, I thought. I was not afraid for me. No one could have been more invulnerable than I, at that point. But I was afraid of what might happen if I should fail. It was unthinkable. I must not fail!

  "Thinke
r, Jason, commo test."

  "Jason, Thinker, ten high. Nothing to report. Let's knock off the call signs, all right? There's nobody on this channel but us."

  He shut down. I got my bearings and began walking. The insertion point was well inside the forest. It was going to be a moderately long walk, but I didn't mind. I needed the time to adjust to the new environment. Rima 2—Chudit. Our target—the ultimate target! The secret of the White Death was hidden on this world, and I was going to find it! The grav was fine, the cool, pale grey sky was delightful. I came to a foot path and followed it out of the forest to a little dirt road that ran through bright green fields to a wide, dusty highway of packed red earth. This was it. I began walking the grassy edge of the road, passing cultivated fields full of an unidentifiable crop. More forest, a stream, another type of cultivated vegetation, a crude brown earth dwelling set off in the distance, a thin wisp of smoke leaking from a chimney, no people visible.

  A vehicle whizzed past me, trailing a plume of dust—an E-car, hissing over the surface of the road on a thick cushion of air. Fracs later, another one rocketed past. They were heading the same direction as I. A road sign materialized out of the dust cloud. I could not read it, but Jason could. Red letters formed in the air, just before me—LAKESIDE, 12 ZM.

  "What's a zim?" I asked.

  "Sorry," Jason responded immediately. "Measurements—distance—ZM. One Xenom equal to 1.7 K. All right, so that's about 15.4 K."

  "Thanks—out." I did not want to chat, except when absolutely necessary. 15 K—as planned. But it was quite a walk. We could certainly insert closer to the target next time. We were being too damned cautious.

  Another car blasted past me in a burst of raucous music, then slid to a halt in a massive dust cloud. As it cleared, I saw it was a shiny yellow E-car with an autoroof in the down position. The driver leaned back over his seat, a young male with long blond hair, grinning at me.

  "S'na lyto?" The translation appeared before my eyes in brilliant red letters: WANT A LIFT?

  THANKS/GA'TO. NO THANKS/TANO GA'TO. More red letters. They were mils from my eyes, in the ES chamber, but nobody could see them on this world except me.