"Over one K deep," Snow Leopard continued, "in the Saltweed Sea, off the shores of the Loran Archipelago, a restricted milzone, a wilderness inhabited by subhuman cannibals and one support base disguised as a scientific station—on the world Eiros 4, in the Hyades Federation, almost dead center of the Inners. We can't even get near the system without being spotted and attacked by Starfleet."
"But we can get through with the Wraith," I said.
"Yes. We can."
"Then why not antimat the damned thing and be done with it?"
"Won't work," Snow Leopard said grimly. "As soon as the missile hits the air it will be detected and countered. The archipelago is littered with anti-air sites, and the sea is full of subs and E-craft that do nothing but monitor the air. And they're loaded with Skystar and interceptor nukes and autolaser systems. Not to mention the fortress's own defensive systems, which are extensive. Should anything ever get through the Skyguard, it faces a host of challenges the instant it hits the water."
"Release the antimat at the last instant," Dragon suggested. "If they can't see the Wraith…"
"It sounds tempting, but it won't work," Snow Leopard said. "We've done simulations. Close won't work. We've got to penetrate the shielding to kill it. We've got to get inside. The place is pretty advanced. And there's another reason why we might not want to blow the thing sky-high."
"What's that?" I asked.
The image faded to be replaced by a still holo of a vast hall full of…children. Uniformed children, grade schoolers, all boys. Outworlders, mostly, clad in silky white, gold piping at sleeves and collars. They were cheering, throwing their slim arms up, glazed eyes focused somewhere up ahead, innocent faces gleaming with joy. Hundreds of them.
It was not until that moment that I knew I would gladly, cheerfully kill Kenton Cotter-Arc, if I could, and that I would feel very good about it.
"Explain, please," I said.
"Initial results of the Children's Raids," Snow Leopard said. "You may have missed it. It began while you were on Pherdos. Starfleet would hit an isolated ConFree world and the DefCorps would attack the milbase and starport. While the defenders were concentrating on that, a fleet of aircars would hit the grade schools and snap up all the boys. Then they'd be off, followed immediately by the rest of the raiding party. The whole point of the raid would be to take the children."
"Why?"
"Simple. Nobody believes in the System any more. So it's being defended by biogens, who can be programmed to believe whatever you want. But biogens are expensive to build, and the System is running out of cash. Children are next-best: They can be programmed. System kids won't work. They already know what the System is—and their parents would resist, too. So ConFree children are best. Systie psych programming is very effective. And it works best on young kids, because they have limited experience of the world."
"And they've done a lot of these raids?"
"Our defenses are spread thin. They've been surprisingly successful. The programming is excellent. This is KCA's own project. The kids are being used primarily in the Hyades Federation. Biogens and children—his personal guard. The biogen girls are known as the Arcangels. The boys are called Arcwhites."
"Our own children."
"Our own children. They'll die for him—willingly."
"We're going in. I want to kill him with my own hands."
"An argument has been made that it might be worth antimatting the place, if we can gain access, just to insure he dies. It will be difficult reaching him personally. Of course, no one wants to kill hundreds of children. But if it ends the war…"
"We go in. I want him to die like a dog. I want to see him bleed."
"Tell us what you really think, Three," Dragon urged me. "Don't be so damned detached."
"There's something else you should know," Snow Leopard continued. "KCA is a homosexual paedophile. He helps himself to those kids. It's…"
"Evil," I said. "The word is evil." My skin crawled with horror and hatred. This was evil. This was what the Legion had been fighting, all these years. Pure evil, now concentrated, focused, in the person of one man—Kenton Cotter-Arc. Satan. The Director was exactly right. KCA was Satan!
The images faded from the holo field, to be replaced by the fortress again, calmly glowing in a dark sea.
"What do they call this place?" I asked.
"Norport Station."
"How much do we know about it?"
"About everything—by now. Information we've got."
"How?"
"Eyemote probes. We've infected the place. We've sent them throughout the complex. It's almost completely mapped by now. The individual units don't last long. They've got some kind of air filter equipment or anti-eyemote device that snaps up our probes regularly. But they last long enough to send the info back to us."
"Do they know we've been eyemoting them?"
"It's doubtful. Anti-eyemotes destroy the devices, but don't really know what they're destroying."
"All right. We project our holos right into the site, and track the bastard down, and blast him."
"Can't do it. The entire dome is protected with anti-holo shielding. KCA ain't easy."
"How did your eyemotes get in?"
"Through the supply subs."
"Then we'll get in the same way. Once our holos are in they can't stop us—right?"
"That's right. But if your holo goes down inside you can't project back there—you'll have to re-infiltrate all over again. And that will be unlikely."
"It's all right," I said. "We're immortals—and they say the universe is going to last forever. We've got plenty of time." I felt good about the mission. I felt holy. It didn't matter how long it took. It didn't matter if we succeeded or failed. It didn't even matter if I lived or died. I was going to go out killing Satan. And, years after my death, nobody was ever going to say that Beta Three had just been along for the ride.
One's comset beeped. He listened, said a few words, and stepped away from the holo table. "Your backup squad is here. Captain says we're almost set to launch."
"Tell him there's no rush. Let's inspect that squad."
***
Nine more troopers, clad in Legion black, braced at attention in the boarding lock. Backup, I thought—and a fearsome backup it was. I knew every soldier personally, and would trust each with my life. Snow Leopard and Dragon and I walked down the line slowly, pausing before each trooper. So young, I thought—they seem so young. I'm only a few years older—but it seems like a generation. Holy Angels, I thought. Deadman's Army—reinforcements for the dead. Temporarily with us, the living. Trigger, now a squad leader, a tall, strapping youth, totally fearless, driven by secret demons he shared with no one. Sweats and Tourist and Doctor Doom, survivors from the Pits, returning to their leader, Dragon. And Squad Mams, five scary, lovely girls with cold eyes and short hair, all branded on the forehead with the black cross. Ricochet, Ragdoll, Pads, Hotpants and Claws—Valkyrie's Babes, guaranteed crazy and all set to shoot up the town. Valkyrie and Scrapper appeared suddenly, grinning, and a satisfied growl arose from the girls. All was well, it seemed. We were all going to die together.
"All right, troopers. Welcome back," I said. "This is Operation Deep, and you're backup. Chances are high we're all going to die. You were told that before you came here. I'll re-emphasize it. This is a suicide mission. I don't want anyone who isn't fully prepared to die. If you have a lover—or anyone else to live for—I want you to walk back out that boarding lock, right now. Do it!"
Somebody laughed. "Nobody like that here!"
"Our lovers are right here!"
"My lover's already in Hell!"
"I've always wanted to die. Can I take some Systies with me?"
"As many as you like, Trooper," I said. "That's part of the deal."
"All right!"
Hopeless, I thought. Hopeless. Perfect. How the hell was KCA going to stop this bunch?
***
"Captain reports the ship is fully pr
epped for launch," Snow Leopard said. "Your last volunteer is here—the crazy fem I told you about. Also we finally got a full team for Ship's Triage." I looked up. Snow Leopard stood by the door. I had been lost at the holo table, inside KCA's serpentine fortress, mapping out possibilities. Dragon was by my side.
"Just what we need," I said, "another crazy. Well, if you recommend her, that's good enough for me."
"Another couple of tits," Dragon objected. "That's four females in the strike force, and five in backup. They outnumber us!"
"From what One's told me about this chick, I'd say her femininity is in question. That right, One?"
"I recommend her without qualification. You want to see her? You've met her before."
"I have? Sure—bring her in." Dragon and I stood by the holo table as the door snapped open. A Mocain girl stepped in and snapped to attention, dressed in blacks, Combat Cross, pale greenish skin, throat and jaw speckled with ugly scars. A Mocain!
"Trooper Zero reporting as ordered, sir!" she shouted. Hooded, icy eyes, almost invisible eyebrows, and a black Legion Cross on her forehead. She looked hard and fit and very tough. Deadman's death—I knew this girl! She was a cold breath from the past.
"Millina," I whispered. "It's Millina." I stood before her, fascinated. This Mocain bitch was part of Beta's past. She fought against us on Coldmark, and with us on Mongera. "One…you're joking," I gasped. "You recommend her?" Dragon was almost nose to nose with the Mocain, glaring at her. Millina continued gazing calmly into space, braced at attention.
"Without qualification," Snow Leopard said. "She's got over 320 documented kills. She's saved over 2,700 Legion or ConFree lives, including an entire outpost on Uldo. And including all of Squad Beta, on Mongera—you remember that. She's been mentioned in after-action reports eleven times. Recommended for promotion to officer four times, and she refused it four times."
"She almost killed Valkyrie," I said.
"Valkyrie almost killed her. She's been wounded in action five times. She's lost both legs, one arm, and large chunks of her hide in service to the Legion."
"She's a Mocain!" Dragon snarled.
"She fought in Galagos, Titan, Uldo and Pherdos. She's totally fearless, totally reliable, and totally ruthless. She's exactly what you need."
"Why should we trust a Mocain?" She stared into space, her hooded, vaguely reptilian eyes betraying nothing while we discussed her as if she were a dog or a biogen.
"She's a ConFree citizen—and a Legion trooper. Proven, repeatedly, in battle."
"Why didn't you tell me it was her?" I asked. "How do you think Valkyrie is going to like this?"
"Valkyrie is going to do what she's ordered to do. I described her qualifications. You agreed she sounded terrific. That hasn't changed. Neither has my recommendation. She's the perfect trooper for this mission. And the past is dead and gone!" His pink eyes glowed.
Dragon breathed in her face, bristling. I went nose to nose with her as well. "You're a Mocain," I hissed. "What are you doing in the Legion, Greenie? Why do you fight for ConFree?"
She blinked, and responded. "I want to kill Systies, sir." Only that. Deadman—wasn't that enough?
"It's your mission, Thinker," Snow Leopard said.
"You're in, Greenie," I said quietly. "Do you have a war name?"
"Yes sir. Greenie. My war name is Greenie."
***
"Wraith, you are cleared for launch."
"Confirm ship is cleared for launch."
"Detach dock lock." The captain of the Wraith was in the command chair as Dragon and I stood behind the bridge crew at the observation rail. The bridge was a marvel of compact, perfectly functional design, the culmination of hundreds of years of experience, lights dimmed, screens glowing a soothing phospho blue. It's almost like a chapel, I thought—a chapel to our God. We had a terrific view out the armored plex. The Spawn blazed like a star, a breathtaking sight.
"Dock lock detached."
"Spawn, Wraith is free."
"May Deadman be with you."
"Thank you, Spawn. God bless you. Docking power ahead point one." We were underway—gliding away from the Spawn in a graceful, slow-motion ballet of blinding spots and icy shadows and a lovely infinity of silvery stars, a silky road of glowing dust as far as we could see. Our journey had begun. All jumps start with docking power, they say.
"Docking power, ahead point one. All green."
"Activate vac drive."
"Vac drive activated, standing by, zero, all green."
"Initiate vac drive, ahead point one."
Gliding like a cenite bat, into infinity. The Spawn was already lost in the distance behind us. Now it was up to us—to me. Snow Leopard was hard at work already. I vowed not to bother him for awhile. I knew whatever he came up with would give us maximum chances for survival while insuring the accomplishment of the mission.
"Triage is still standing by for inspection," Dragon said. Volunteers were not always immediately available when the chances for survival were posted as 'minimal', but they were always there when it was time to launch. It gave me all the faith I needed in the Legion, just knowing we still had people like that, every day, walking in the door. If the day ever came when we called for volunteers and nobody showed, it would be the end of the Legion—and ConFree.
"Fine," I said. "Tell them we're on the way."
***
"Ship's Triage Combat Fleet Medunit 901 ready for inspection, sir!" They were all in white, a young male Combat Surgeon and six medics and nurses, males and females, a brand new Body Shop equipped with every possible…my heart stopped. She stood there at attention, nurses insignia over one breast—Millie! My own Millie! She smiled proudly, looking at me out of the corners of her eyes. I held up a hand, cutting off the surgeon's description of the unit and its capabilities.
"Millie," I said stupidly. "What are you doing here? I thought you were on Quaba 7."
"I volunteered," she replied brightly. "I heard you were commanding this mission, so I volunteered—sir."
"I see." I stepped back, furious. A volunteer. Just what we needed. And who could stop a Legion volunteer? Nobody! I had wanted her safe and sound on Quaba 7. And now she was here, to share my fate. Fate, fate, fate—impossible to fight it.
"Thank you, Chief Surgeon," I said. "It looks like a splendid medunit. Hopefully, you won't get a chance to use all this fancy equipment."
"Yes sir! Thank you sir!"
Millie—and Millina! What a contrast! Day and night, love and hate, blind faith and blind revenge, saving lives and taking them, walking into the future side by side, right into Satan's den. I had a feeling we were going to need both of them.
Chapter 23
Deneb's Seed
That damned big male Mocain kept looking at Valkyrie. It made her nervous, I could tell, but it made me more nervous. I was beginning to sweat, and I didn't want that. We were in Norport Station's supply sub, all six of us. It was working. We had appeared in the milbase, infilled quietly through to the warehouse, killed two guards and all six VS and took their places, loading massive dropboxes onto the sub. We looked like a truly ratty gang of VS—Voluntary Service—Eiros slaves, skin darkened by a hot tropical sun, dressed in rags, totally unarmed and totally harmless. We had left a bloody mess behind us in the warehouse, but with any luck we'd be inside Norport before the carnage was discovered.
I was sweating all right, even though the air in the cargo hold was icy cold. The Mocain was lounging near Valkyrie. We sat on benches that ran along the interior of the hull facing the cargo, which almost filled the hold. Little observation ports gave a terrific view of the sea outside. Part of Norport came into view off in the distance. A little patrol sub cruised lazily past. A larger sub was doing something on the sea floor.
The Mocain reached out for Valkyrie's headrag and pulled it back to reveal her face. The VS females on Eiros all wore those headrags, perhaps for modesty, but it wasn't going to hide Valkyrie's beauty. We had erased the Legion cross
from her forehead, thinking it might not be appropriate for this mission. We'd done the same for Millina and Scrapper. The Mocain smiled and said something to Valkyrie. Damn it! There was only the one Mocain security goon in the cargo hold with us and a crew of two up in front, past the small passenger compartment with three passengers, if our info was right. A total of six to be dealt with.
Valkyrie looked down at the deck. Good! Don't talk, Valkyrie. Just ignore him. Let the driver get us to the target first. Just get us there. Grant us only that!
The Mocain liked what he saw. He was huge, with pale, faintly greenish skin, clad in DefCorps khaki. He reached down and grasped Valkyrie's wrist and pulled her from her seat, dragging her roughly to the front of the compartment near a crew hatch where a plastic wall panel blocked our view. VS weren't supposed to resist Mocains—it was unthinkable. The security camera, above the door to the passenger compartment, gave the crew a good view of the supply compartment, but Valkyrie and the Mocain were now out of its field of view. Probably another ten marks before arrival at Norport Station. Damn!
Scrapper eased out of her seat and took a look behind the wall panel to see what they were doing. She looked back at me, grimacing—insistent. Damn! I started to get up. Dragon signalled me, urging me not to move. He was closer to them. He got up casually and strolled over to the scene of the action. Scrapper resumed her seat. Damn damn damn! We'd never make it!
A flurry of movement. Valkyrie staggered into view, shaken, her blouse dishevelled. The Mocain came crashing down, spraying blood from his face, Dragon following him to the deck like a killer bloodcat, hissing death. The intercom squawked something. Dragon dragged the unconscious Mocain back to the corner, but it was probably too late.
We resumed our seats, desperate to salvage something. Maybe they hadn't seen much. Dragon confiscated the Greenie's shockrod. That was the extent of the armament that most of KCA's troopers were permitted downside. Even KCA's quick reaction forces were only armed with vac. KCA knew firearms and energy weapons were dangerous. All good dictators knew that. The first thing he had done in the Hyades Federation was to disarm the populace. Possession of firearms was punishable by death. He didn't even trust his own troopers or biogens, downside. All his installations were wired to detect firearms, so we were going in barehanded. But that was all right. It gave us an extra edge.
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