Cross of the Legion

by Marshall S. Thomas

  "Where did we come from?" the Mocain hissed. There was no doubt—she was seething. Three Four was paralyzed. Nine One found his voice.

  "Sir?"

  "Where did we come from? We appear before it, right on the loading dock. From nowhere? It didn't notice us? It didn't notice a general? Is it in charge of security here? What else has it missed?"

  "Sir, we…"

  The Mocain's arm whipped around and slammed a document down on the counter, shaking the guard post. "SIS—surprise inspection! And we don't like what we've found here. Its designation?"

  "Sir, we…"

  "Its designation!"

  "Nine Five Nine One, sir, Fourth Commandos, Presidential Guard!" The blonde snapped the recorder over to Three Four.

  "Eight Eight Three Four, sir, Fourth Commandos, Presidential Guard!"

  "Read the orders, troopers! This inspection has been ordered by the Supreme Leader. It is a surprise inspection, of Norport Station and all supporting units. It will…"

  "Sir! We were not notified of any…"

  "Silence, trooper! It will not interrupt us! We just told it this is a surprise inspection. If we told anyone in advance, it would not be a surprise, now would it? Shut down and listen carefully! Things have been getting entirely too slack around here. The Supreme Leader orders all concerned to cooperate totally with the inspecting units. It will not alert Norport Security to our presence. We are to observe normal procedures, trooper! If it alerts them, we will be observing a charade. And if it alerts them—we will learn about it! Our papers!" She slammed two ID copies down on the counter and turned on her heel, heading for the sub's personnel door, her lovely aide trotting along behind her. The last dropbox went rolling into the cargo door and the porters leaped in after it.

  "Scut!" Three Four exclaimed.

  "Bitch!" Nine One gasped. He watched the two of them step into the ship. The personnel door hissed closed behind them. "Did you see that honey she's got?"

  "Never mind the honey. What do we do?"

  "What does it think?"

  "We don't know! Read the orders!"

  "Shouldn't we report it?"

  "We? Hey, feel free!"

  "Yeah, but they're not on the list! Shouldn't we…"

  "Look, that was one mightily authentic and highly upset Mocain general! And if the Supreme Leader ordered it, we ain't gonna call anyone!"

  "But we can call Personnel, in the tacstrip here, to see if they've got an arrival record. That way, we're just seeing where it's been. We're not alerting anyone where it's going. Give us those ID's."

  "All right."

  Three Four turned to the comset and punched the tab for the tacstrip.

  "Library."

  "Huh? Gimme the tacsite."

  "Sorry. This is the science library. May we help it?"

  "No—sorry." Three Four cut the connection, and tried again.

  "Library."

  "What the hell? Isn't this the Second Air Wing?"

  "No. It's got the science library. Sorry."

  Three Four hung up again. "That's odd," he said. The sub was backing out, gliding slowly into the grey morning. It looked like the rain was easing up.

  Snow Leopard was pleased. All right so far!

  ***

  For a mindless biogen, I was a total failure. I was sitting with the others on a metal bench with my feverish head propped against a stack of cold sweating dropboxes. It was almost dark in the cargo hold—darker than it had been in ES—and I was having trouble breathing. I couldn't decide if it was suffocatingly hot or burning cold. I seemed to be experiencing both at the same time. We were underway, cruising underwater in the supply sub towards KCA's fortress city. All quiet so far—blessed quiet—but I was still shaking! I had to stop, or I'd give the mission away. Every extra instant we could pull it off was a blessing, every extra instant brought KCA closer to his death.

  That damned hatch snapped open again. The Mocain guard gave us the once-over. I bowed my head, my bloody hands between my legs. The blood was everywhere—all over my rags. But it was dark. He couldn't see it.

  The hatch closed. He was staying in the passenger cabin. Good! Maybe Millina was giving him hell.

  We had killed every one of the porters in a bloody spasm of violence in the warehouse, ramming the daggers through their hearts, ripping their throats open with the angel wire, almost decapitating them, cutting them down silently, quickly, like a pack of bloodcats tearing through a herd of mumpups. We left the warehouse floor splattered with blood and dragged the bodies into the corners. They'd be discovered—but, hopefully, too late—too late for KCA.

  Innocents—each one of them. Eiros porters: simple, wiry, tough, impoverished men and even a few women. People with families, working as VS for the System for a few credits to buy bread for the table and milk for the children. My heart burned, my muscles shook. Murder! Bloody, merciless slaughter! What had they ever done to me to deserve this? My eyes were full of tears. KCA was going to pay for this! I was going to shred him, limb from limb. I would gouge out his eyes; I would bathe in his blood!

  Every extra instant brought me closer to Him. I'd leave a trail of bloody footprints, to Him. A trail of corpses, a path of slaughtered innocents, crying out to the Gods, for justice. Justice! Can you feel me coming, KCA? I'm going to join you in Hell!

  Fools! They checked the porters' ID's when they entered the warehouse, but not when they entered the ship to accompany the cargo. They were to unload it on Norport and then return to BioSite 2 on the ship. They'd been checked once, no need to check them again.

  One little problem—the porters who entered the ship were not the same ones who'd been checked. And the people who checked them were dead.

  I prayed to Deadman. Let us dock, in Norport. Only that. We'll do the rest. Just let us dock! Let us get that far.

  We were truly unarmed now, the daggers left behind in the warehouse. All we had now was angel wire. That—and everything the Legion had taught us. Unarmed? I almost laughed through the tears. Seven suicidal, psychotic, merciless killers. Everyone who crossed our path would die like bacteria.

  I blinked away tears. We were almost there. The shaking stopped. A warm wave rushed over my body. I was suddenly calm. Now—we were in the hands of the Gods. He would die—or we would. I knew we'd do our best. I thought of Priestess, close beside me, and Millie, back on the Wraith. I thought of Valkyrie, up in the passenger compartment with Millina. I thought of Tara, my evil twin, and all that had happened since I joined the Legion, as a young fool. I was older now, but still a fool.

  It didn't matter. We were grains of dust, under the boots of the Gods. Help us, Deadman, I prayed—grant me His death! And if not, I curse you! If not, kill me, Deadman. Him or me!

  The skin of the sub rang like a great bell. We were docking.

  Chapter 25

  Inside

  Move it, subs!"

  An Orman overseer with a shockrod at his belt glared at us as we slammed the dropboxes along the rollers from the docked sub to the cavernous interior of a warehouse. We were inside Norport Station, far below the surface. The massive sub butted up against the pier, streaming water, inside a huge underwater airlocked sub chamber. Inside! My skin crawled. Millina and Valkyrie were at the security checkpoint, engaged in an animated discussion with two large Mocain troopers. The troopers were clad in the rust red uniform of KCA's security force. The other passengers had already gone through security.

  "Visuals are cut," Snow Leopard said in my ears. The stage was set for our dangerous game. The last of the dropboxes was loaded into the warehouse. It was time for us to pad back to the sub. The Orman gazed over at the checkpoint, trying to raise them on his comset. It didn't seem to work. One of the Mocains gestured to him. They were behind a clear, armored plex double security door and it didn't open from our side. I had a feeling time was running out quickly for us. I spotted a biogen girl with the Mocains behind the checkpoint counter. Millina and Valkyrie wouldn't be able to take all three of
them. We had to get behind those doors! Millina gesturing vigorously towards us. The doors snapped open. One of the Mocains shouted to the Orman.

  "Those two VS—bring them here! What's wrong with its comset?"

  "Huh? Bring them?"

  "Bring those two VS. Now!" He pointed to Dragon and me. We paused, pretending to be startled.

  "Yeah, you! You and you—get over there!" the Orman barked. Dragon and I shuffled reluctantly over to the open doors, past the body scanners and up to the counter. The doors hissed close behind us. We had no weapons, so there was no alert. We were clean—harmless slaves. We stood there humbly, hanging our heads, our hands clasped before us in a gesture of servitude.

  "How does it know?" Millina asked. "They have no ID. These two look bad! You let these VS right into the Supreme Leader's base, without ID? Is this standard procedure? How does it know who they are?"

  "There are hundreds of guest workers who have access to the base, General. These ones don't even get off the loading dock. We know exactly who they are! They were all carded on the other side."

  "On the other side!"

  "We have their ID's right here. Would it like to see them? Is that damned thing up yet?" he snapped at his companion.

  "It's not appearing! It keeps channeling me to General Inquiries."

  "Does it always work this well?" Millina asked. The biogen girl was silent, seemingly minding her own business. Valkyrie was doing her thing with the recorder, thrusting it right at the two Mocain troopers.

  "Sir, we…"

  "We've seen enough! We want to know the designations of these two VS, and it can't tell us! Would it like that to go in our report?"

  "Zor, tell Myor to get those ID's now. He's got them."

  "We still can't raise it."

  "Tell it! Get over there!" Zor went charging over to the loading dock, leaving the security doors open behind him.

  "This is a terrific show," Millina muttered. "We have never seen a more confused security post."

  "General, it's not normally like this. We're suffering from…" A buzzer sounded.

  "B7 Sub Base, Post One." The Mocain looked up at the ceiling. "Out? All out? Well, they look all right to me. Yes. No, it's fine. Look, we've got some failures in our commo systems. Probably has something to do with the visuals. Could it have Commo check our systems? Yes. Yes, yes. Look, we're very busy here. Right, out."

  "Something else wrong?" Millina asked acidly.

  "Ah…just some camera problems. Here—here's the IDs." Zor came rushing back with a handful of printouts. His companion came around to the front of the counter in his anxiety to check the IDs.

  "Why does that sub have blood all over its pants?" the biogen girl asked quietly.

  "It cut itself in the warehouse, Miss," Dragon responded.

  "Blood?" the Mocain asked stupidly, looking down at my legs.

  "We are sorry, sir," I said humbly.

  "Can it find these two subs on these IDs, trooper?" Millina asked. "We cannot." Zor frantically pawed at the IDs on the counter. Dragon and I were clearly not depicted in the holo images.

  "Does it realize what this means?" Millina asked. Both Mocain troopers focused on us, as if for the first time, their eyes widening. Millina whipped out her ceremonial dagger and buried it in the first Mocain's heart, leaping on him savagely and riding him down to the floor, his mouth gaping like a fish, stunned and silent. Valkyrie shrieked and plunged her own dagger into the other Mocain's neck, slicing it open, blood spurting as if from a hose. Dragon and I jumped the counter and tackled the biogen girl, slamming her face down to the floor. She kicked and punched powerfully, but we had caught her off guard. I slipped the angel wire around her neck and pulled from behind. Her neck spurted white blood as her body twitched in awful, spastic death throes, bucking under us like a berserk puppet. She kept fighting us. Even biogens don't want to die, but her head was almost off—and biogens need oxygen. She shuddered, one last awful strangled gasp, and ceased functioning. Psycho, Priestess and Scrapper were suddenly there.

  "The Orman's dead," Psycho announced, holding a shockrod. "We'd better move fast." Valkyrie's Mocain twitched on the floor, his neck spurting a fountain of scarlet blood.

  "No general alarm yet," Snow Leopard said in my ears. "You'll know it when it happens. Go with Plan B."

  "I've got blood on my uniform," Millina said.

  "So have I," Valkyrie added.

  "Never mind," I said. "Got to chance it. Get those shockrods." There was movement back on the loading dock. The ship's crew was disembarking. Time to go!

  ***

  C corridor was wide, with good reason. Large airsleds hissed along the center, piled high with packages and dropboxes, caution lights flashing. We kept to one side, Millina and Valkyrie leading the way boldly, five VS slaves shuffling along meekly behind. We were still on Level B7, and the people we passed had the aura of subs, putting in their time in a disagreeable place. Outworlders, Ormans, Cyrillians, Elidians, Dardans, Picans—all the races of the System's bankrupt empire were there, and they didn't look happy. We were near the very bottom of KCA's refuge. It was dark and damp.

  "Stand aside!" Millina commanded. Two large Cyrillians in brown uniforms got out of our way, gazing at us curiously. The elevator was right up ahead. A group of Systies stood not far from it. One of them wore a rust red uniform—Security.

  "Who's Security?" Millina called out. "That one! Accompany us! These VS are being investigated." She punched the elevator tab authoritatively. Valkyrie glared at us, shockrod in hand. The security trooper saluted Millina and approached cautiously.

  "Sir? What's this?"

  "We just said what it was, trooper. Pay attention! We're going to Security Hqs—Level H. Does it know the way?"

  "Yes, sir. Do…"

  "Good! Keep an eye on the VS! In here, subs!" she snapped at us as Valkyrie herded us into the open elevator, then followed us in with Millina and the security trooper.

  "That's the wrong level," the trooper said. "You want H1." Valkyrie had just pressed B10. The elevator door hissed close and we began to rise.

  "Sorry," Valkyrie said. The trooper pressed H1.

  "This is an SIS inspection, trooper," Millina said, "and it's the first person we've met who hasn't completely blown its responsibilities."

  "Our thanks, sir. Could we…" He was interrupted by a shrieking alert siren that almost deafened us in the confines of the elevator.

  "ATTENTION! THIS IS A SECURITY ALERT! BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR A GROUP OF VS LABORERS, ACCOMPANIED BY TWO MOCAIN FEMALES, ONE IN THE UNIFORM OF AN SIS GENERAL! THIS IS NO DRILL! SUSPECTS ARE TO BE IMMEDIATELY DETAINED…" Millina smiled at the trooper and blasted him with a shockrod. He sparkled like fireworks for an instant, then collapsed, slumping to the floor.

  "Get his shockrod!" Now we had a total of five shockrods. The door snapped open on B10 and we cautiously exited. Psycho ran his fingers over all the floor tabs to insure the elevator would stop everywhere and with a bit of luck not pinpoint our location.

  "See you—good luck!" Millina and Valkyrie took off with their ceremonial daggers and one of the shockrods. We divvied up the rest. There was nobody in the vicinity. It was a laborers' residential floor, reasonably quiet at this hour.

  "Death!" I hissed. Scrapper appeared by my side, ripped the headrag off and tossed it away, revealing her long tawny hair.

  "Goodbye, Thinker," Priestess raised a hand and I swear she was luminous—just like an angel. Goodbye? Dragon was by her side, glowering. Dragon would take care of her. I had decided it was best this way. Millina and Valkyrie, Scrapper and I, Dragon and Priestess, with Psycho off on his own. Four separate attacks—somebody should get through. I didn't want to be with Priestess on this final mission. It was too important to be encumbered with human emotions.

  We starburst, padding down dirty, deserted corridors lined with closed doors.

  ***

  "This fellow's an infotech," I said, rummaging through a shoulder bag I found on the
floor. "These are infotech tools." Scrapper and I fumbled around in a dark cube, ripping clothes out of drawers and closets.

  "How do I look?" Scrapper asked, posing with a white flash smile, clad in a sloppy brown shirt several sizes too large, wearing loose brown pants.

  "Very prole," I said. "You're right in style. Mess up your hair a little more. Carry that comset over there. How about me?" I swung the bag over my shoulder. The man's work uniform was a reasonably good fit.

  "It's you. We're a pair of subs. Let's get out there and slouch!"

  "You're going to need shoes." I had found a pair of work boots that were a bit large, but slipped on easily. There was nothing small enough for Scrapper.

  "Damn! I forgot!" She was still wearing her muddy VS sandals. "Well, there's no shoe stores around here. Let's go."

  "Thinker, Scrapper, exit the door and move right until you see a staircase. There's light foot traffic, no security yet." One was right on it—he had eyemotes on each element. We'd have been lost without him.

  We strolled out the door, ignoring a pair of workers who brushed past us. We rounded a corner and came upon a girl hauling a big pouch of papers. It looked like she was making deliveries. Scrapper stopped before her, looking down at the girl's feet.

  "Nice shoes," Scrapper said.

  ***

  "Don't they have anything for normal-sized people?" Millina hissed, ripping open another uniform pak and tossing it to the deck.

  "How about khaki?" Valkyrie asked, snatching another pak. They were standing between two tall rows of shelving, lined with stacks of brand new clothing—just what they needed.

  "Khaki is good," Snow Leopard replied in their ears. "No time for insignia. Just find something that fits, get some boots, and get out! Alert—somebody's approaching you!" One had guided then to the supply outlet, but time was running out quickly.

  "Hey! What is it…" a stocky male Orman in a chocolate brown uniform stood at one end of the aisle. "What are you girls up to?" More confident now, he approached them, striding boldly forward, scowling at the pale brunette and the lovely blonde. Millina stood there quietly, watching him without comment. Valkyrie let a clothing pak fall carelessly to the floor. And suddenly he understood. Perhaps he caught a glimpse of the single star on Millina's forest green uniform. His face paled, his eyes widened. He turned to run but they were on him like bloodcats, snarling, knives flashing, up, down, blood splattering. He screamed, scrambling along the floor desperately as the knives plunged into his back again, again, again, while the two merciless females clung to him like wolves bringing down a deer.