March of the Legion sotl-2

by Marshall S. Thomas

  Tara was face-down in the mud, stunned. The humanoid was on his knees beside her, his eyes glazed over. I couldn't even get off the ground, but Dragon was there. He gently turned Tara over and held her in his arms.

  "They got your ship—I'm sorry," Dragon said. The tacnet was working now and I could hear every word. It was like the crack of doom. It was hopeless now, I knew—Redhawk had to be dead. There would be no evac for us.

  Tara's lips moved. Her hands came up. She activated her wristcom. "Whit—Whit, come. Come." It was a whisper. How could anyone possibly hear her, under this nuclear holocaust? Impossible.

  "Coming!" The reply came immediately. "On the way, Commander!" My heart leaped. The Gods were there after all!

  A huge, hairy hand placed itself on Dragon's armored chest and gently pushed him away from Tara. Gildron reached down and took her in his arms and stood up, Tara's arms and legs dangling, Gildron's E hanging loosely from one arm, a light hot rain hissing down all around them. Gildron looked around the sky in despair, rolling his eyes and snarling quietly. It was as if his whole world was ending.

  Chapter 12:

  Ghost Riders

  The aircar appeared in a halo of rain and mist, a pale, fragile vision, hissing magically up to Badboy's position, hovering in the air, spraying a storm of mud and water. My head whirled. Lying on my back, I thought I had never seen anything more beautiful in my life. It was a pure white aircar, Tara's personal car, which had ridden in the Highroad down to Mongera. It did not belong out here, I thought, in the firestorm.

  I tried to move my limbs. A bloody, glistening cenite arm appeared before me, then fell away. Bad idea. Voices echoed in my helmet.

  "Get in! Get in!"

  "Faster!"

  "Oh my God."

  "Cinta, three DefCorps aircars, coming quick!"

  "Aircars!"

  "Systie aircars!" Dragon exclaimed. "Psycho—cover us! Load 'em up, gang!"

  Psycho charged off into the rain, his chainlink going up. Merlin and Dragon, splattered with mud, seized me under the arms and tossed me effortlessly into the aircar with a crash. I did not even feel it. Valkyrie pulled me to one side, then stepped over me.

  Full auto tacstars whistled and ripped through the air, tingling my skin, the stars hissing and roaring. The sky exploded, airburst nukes, a sky of fire for the Systie aircars.

  Someone screamed. Someone else was crying. Armored bodies slid along a bloody metal floor. Frantic activity. I tried to raise my head—I could not.

  "That's One, Three, Two—Gamma One—Nine!" Dragon and Merlin were hauling Priestess towards the aircar. I knew her wounds were bad.

  "Gamma, I think she's alive." Valkyrie helped drag Priestess into the aircar. There was blood everywhere.

  "Coolhand is critical!"

  "Snow Leopard is still bleeding!"

  "Hurry! DefCorps aircars are here!" Tara's exec Whit was in the pilot's seat all by herself, calling out to Valkyrie. "They're here!"

  Psycho was still firing outside and the sky was full of nuclear clouds, spitting an unholy white light. The humanoid leaped into the aircar, carrying Tara in his arms.

  "Gamma! Help us!" Dragon and Merlin struggled with a body. Valkyrie helped them drag it in. It was Warhound, who died for us all, his A-suit horribly burned. Then there was another—Ironman, a helpless, dead A-suit. Valkyrie slipped in the blood and went to one knee.

  Another scream. Who was alive, who was dead? Whit was out of her seat, hurrying to her Commander. "Oh my God! Cinta! Oh! Hurry, hurry! They're circling!"

  "Get back in your seat, pilot!"

  "Coolhand is hit bad!"

  "I've zeroed Gamma Five and Seven!"

  "Where are they?"

  "Wait for us! Be right back!" Dragon and Merlin whirled around and disappeared into the smoke, splashing wildly through the mud.

  "No! No! Come back! Oh my God!" Whit was ready for a complete breakdown.

  Out the open assault door Dragon and Merlin paused at a glowing tacstar crater full of rubble from a collapsed building. They found two Legion A-suits trapped in the wreckage, one covering the other.

  "Get them out." Dragon frantically tore at the rubble with his hands. Merlin pulled at the first A-suit.

  "It's Sassin."

  "Is he alive?"

  "Don't know."

  "Help…help." A whisper.

  "Five!" Scrapper, stunned but alive.

  "Aircar attacking!" Psycho fired his chainlink again, white-hot tacstars ripping overhead. Dragon and Merlin raised their E's and fired into the raging sky. Nuclear airbursts, hot hail splattering all around them. Merlin dropped his E and pulled Sassin from the rubble. Dragon got ahold of Scrapper. A flaming inferno above, splitting into fragments, trailing black smoke.

  Psycho stood alone in the mud, watching the Systie aircar break apart above him. Direct hit! The sky was his! He let loose another burst, giggling to himself. His sky—his! The other aircars circled, warily.

  "Systies! Systies! I'm here! Right here! Can't you see me? Closer! Come closer! I want to kiss you!" Psycho burst into demonic laughter. "Just a little kiss! Here—taste it!" He let loose another burst, up into the burning sky. He was staggering in the mud, looking up and laughing.

  Two more shattered A-suits, Dragon and Merlin dragging them, splattering through the mud. Gamma Two reached out to haul them into the aircar.

  "Bring the O."

  "We don't have time!"

  "Bring the O!"

  Another corpse, this one charred and smoking, obscene black unreal armored body parts, all wrong, still sizzling, falling apart as they slid it into the car. Alien limbs, twitching. Alien blood, hissing onto the deck. A revolting stench.

  "Scut! Is that it?"

  "Another attack! He's launched!" A warning from Whit.

  Psycho fired immediately, a long tacstar burst. The ground shook. The aircar shrieked.

  "Board, Psycho—now!" Dragon and Merlin leaped in. Then Psycho hurtled in head-first, his chainlink slamming against the ceiling. The aircar moved, picking up speed, rain and spray hissing over us from the open door.

  "Wait! Don't leave us! Take us! We helped it!" A Systie A-suit was running alongside—it was Millina.

  "Shoot her," Dragon said, reaching for his E. I came to life, my one good hand locking onto Dragon's arm.

  "No!" I shouted, "Help her! She shot the Systies! I saw her!"

  "What do we do? God!" Whit hesitated, the aircar gliding forward slowly, barely moving, the Systie aircars already on their firing runs.

  Valkyrie leaned out the door, extending her E in one hand, barrel out. Millina ran alongside, her arms outstretched. Only an instant, for Millina to decide. Gamma Two, Legion, her slave, leaning out with her E, the barrel pointed right at Millina. Pale green eyes, a whole new world, life or death, reach out and taste your fate. Millina seized the barrel of the E with both hands. Her feet left the ground. Valkyrie and Dragon hauled her in. She collapsed on the deck, gasping, hysterical. Whit hit the throttle and the aircar spat flame and the assault door slammed shut and Fernveldt blurred and vanished in a flash of tacstars.

  "Thinker's stable."

  Stable, stable, stable, echoing in my helmet. Someone opened my visor. It was Valkyrie, a flash of her pale face, icy green eyes. She turned away. Pandemonium erupted. I desperately tried to get off my back and crawl over to Priestess—the pain was overwhelming. Somebody screamed, and I think it was me.

  "One's bleeding. I can't stop the bleeding!"

  "Give me the cyro!"

  "Hold still there—don't move it!"

  "Open the visor."

  "Coolhand—Deadman! Help Coolhand!"

  "Priestess! Can you hear me?"

  "Gamma, gimme a charge!"

  "Priestess is hit bad!"

  "He's not breathing!"

  "Sassin! He's alive!"

  "The charger! Quick!"

  "Deadman! Hold still!"

  I forced myself over to Priestess's prone A-suit, the car whirl
ing around me, cold sweat on my brow, acid burning in my mouth.

  "Priestess—Priestess!" Her visor was open. Her eyes were open. She gasped for air. Valkyrie was unlinking Nine's armor—she had been hit in the chest. Blood oozed out of the armor. My crude medpads fell away, soaked in blood.

  Another scream. This time it was not me. Dragon tossed Valkyrie a bloody biotic charger. She pressed it onto Priestess's scarlet chest. Priestess's eyes flickered and closed. She breathed deeply and shuddered.

  "Don't let her die!"

  "Get out of the way, Thinker—you can't help. I need a cyro!"

  "Deadman! Sassin is in bad shape!"

  "What about Coolhand?"

  "He's dying, Gamma! Gimme the charger!"

  "Unlink, unlink!"

  "Ohhh no—no!"

  "Stop the bleeding!"

  "Coolhand, Coolhand, can you hear me?"

  "He's not breathing!"

  "No! No! God no!"

  "Biotic charge! Quick!"

  Valkyrie bent over Coolhand, frantically working to unlink his bloody armor. Blood was splattered everywhere. It was a charnel house, a butcher shop. I struggled to retain consciousness. It whirled around me. I found Priestess's hand and took it in mine and closed my eyes and prayed. Just let her live, I thought. Just let her live! I'll do your will, I'll kill Systies the rest of my life, whatever you want! Just let her live.

  "Sassin! Critical! Now!" Another mad scramble.

  Shattered, scarred armor, black blood on the deck, a massive, alien limb, burnt to a crisp—the O! Its head was at my feet, encased in melted armor deformed by plasma.

  The humanoid sat beside me, cradling Tara in his arms. She was pale and still, her eyes closed. Lord, she was just like an angel, a wounded angel. The humanoid was crying, running his blunt, hairy fingers through her silken hair.

  "DefCorps aircars closing!" Whit shouted. "What do we do?"

  Millina scrambled up to the cockpit, sliding on the blood, tearing at her visor. "Is it on Mongeran freaks?" Millina asked.

  "Affirmative—two of them!"

  "ATTENTION! WE ARE BEING TARGETED FOR ATTACK! HOSTILE LOCK-ON!" The aircar boomed out the warning. Millina hit the transmit tab.

  "DefCorps aircars, attention! This is Millina, repeat, Millina! Hold its fire! We have seized control of the aircar! Repeat, the System has control of this aircar! Enemy units all terminated! Acknowledge!"

  "Acknowledge it has control of the aircar. Slow down and land, Millina. Does it need assistance?"

  "Negative. Negative, we have seriously wounded here, please escort us back to Mongera Port, acknowledge."

  "They're still locked on!" Whit reported.

  "Lock on lifted," the ship corrected her.

  "Slow down, Millina! We're coming alongside. Who is on board? Report!"

  "DefCorps, our comrades are dying! Escort us in! Alert the port!" Millina took her hand off the transmit tab. "Don't slow down! Fast as it can! The bastard is coming alongside us."

  "Psycho," Dragon said cautiously, "take position by the door. Pilot, you do exactly as I say. Be prepared to take evasive action."

  "Affirmative! Do it quick, whatever it is!"

  An enemy aircar slid close in behind us, easing in to our left.

  "Nobody move! Heads down! Millina, wave at him or something."

  Right alongside us now, an ugly wedge of burnt black armor ramming its way through the air, hot cenite death, all the power and pain of the System, functional and deadly and excruciatingly lovely, so lovely I could hardly believe it. Millina waved from the cockpit. The Systie pilot could see her and Whit sitting together up front.

  "Millina, report its status and casualties immediately!"

  "He's not buying it!"

  "Whit, open the door! Psycho, chainlink! Hold on, gang!" The door snapped open suddenly, a great roar as a typhoon of air rushed in, loose gear exploding all around us. The Systie pilot's eyes widened as Five fired full auto tacstar, and the enemy aircar exploded, a blinding nuclear flash; and our own aircar was blown aside like a leaf in a storm, falling, rolling, chaos, everyone screaming, upside down, then back again, crashing down towards the deck in a wild pile of bodies. Whit regained control of the car. Dragon landed on top of me. He scrambled off, stunned.

  "Deadman! Is everyone still here?"

  "The door! The door!"

  The door slid shut. Chaos reigned.

  "Help me! It's Sassin!"

  "Oh no! Where's the medkit?"

  "Where's the other aircar?"

  "Badboy, Big Kid! We've got a distress beacon—it's your aircar jock, Beta Ten. Badboy, Big Kid, repeat, distress beacon from your aircar jock—do you read it, acknowledge?"

  "Oh, Deadman!"

  "Aircar closing—this is…"

  "Evade, evade!"

  "That's Ten! Beta Ten! Are you getting that signal?"

  "Badboy, Big Kid—we've got you on scope, one Systie aircar behind you, closing fast. What's your status, over?"

  "Oh, we're fine—SCUT!"

  "No life signs from Coolhand!"

  "Mag charge! Keep him alive, Valkyrie!"

  "Sassin—critical!"

  "Oh damn! Damn damn damn damn!"

  "Deadman, don't let him die!"

  "Deceptors!" Whit slammed a tiny fist down on the controls and the sky exploded all around us and we were in a hot drop to the deck and suddenly in a forest, crashing through the underbrush, a leafy green cathedral all around us, black tree trunks flashing past like ancient stone columns. Whit took us to a faint stream and we followed it into the woods, mikes above the water, trailing a shock wave of water vapor and shredded leaves.

  "We've got to pick up Redhawk."

  "Keep going, pilot! You're leaving him behind!"

  "Coolhand, Coolhand! Please! Live, damn you, live! Coolhand!"

  "We go to pick up Redhawk, now! Do you have the beacon on scope?"

  "No response! There's no response! Hit it again!"

  "Affirmative. Just let us shake this aircar." Whit's face was beaded with cold sweat. The deceptors had done the trick. The DefCorps aircar was wasting time dealing with phantoms.

  I could taste the mags on my tongue—it was all that was keeping me conscious. Priestess was curled in a foetal ball under a tangle of equipment. I tore it away, frantic. Bloody fleshpads, all over her chest. Her eyes were open—she was breathing!

  "Priestess, Priestess—answer me!" Her eyes focused on me. Her mouth opened.

  "Thinker…"

  "Don't talk! I'm right here! You're all right—stay awake!"

  "…hurts…"

  "Gimme that medpack!"

  A hand on my arm. It was Merlin. "She's had a charge, Thinker. No more!"

  "You stay awake, Priestess!"

  "Faster! Have you got the zero?"

  "Got it, got it!"

  "No response!" A muffled scream from Valkyrie. She hit the charge again, again, again. "Please…please…please…" It was Coolhand they were working on, I slowly realized. I watched, stunned. It was like a fever dream, and Dragon and Valkyrie were armored demons hovering over one of their own, the A-suit still glowing, scarlet blood bubbling.

  "No response."

  "No! No! No! No!" Valkyrie continued triggering the biotic charger. Coolhand's blood splattered all over his A-suit, but he was not there any more. He had joined the phantom army, the Legion of the Dead. I turned my head away.

  He had been my first friend in the Legion. I could not believe it. I simply could not grasp it. It was a mistake. Surely it was a mistake.

  The humanoid still had Tara in his arms. She was gasping. I moved over to her in a trance, and opened my medkit. I pressed a biomag onto one arm and triggered it.

  The creature did not object. Tara stirred, and her eyes fluttered open. She looked so fragile, like a lost child.

  "Wester…" she whispered, "…it's you."

  "Yes, Tara—it's me. Don't try to talk—you'll be all right."

  "You're wounded."

  "
It's nothing." It's only my heart, I thought, and my soul.

  "I came for you, Wester."

  "I know you did."

  "I'm sorry, Wester—I'm sorry!" There were tears in Tara's eyes. The humanoid put his ugly face right next to Tara's—he was giving her a big, wet kiss. He was beaming.

  "Gildron!" Tara flashed a beautiful smile. She was coming around. "Gildron, you're all right!" The creature was whimpering and drooling.

  "We're closing on that beacon," Whit said. We were out of the forest. The sky was dark and cloudy—raindrops spattered against the plex.

  "Faster!" Millina urged. "That aircar will be on us soon."

  "Again! Again! Biotic charge!" Valkyrie and Dragon and Merlin and Psycho were struggling over Sassin's bloody form. He was slipping away, fading away, and all the magtech wonders of the Legion could not bring him back.

  "He's gone!"

  "Keep trying! Keep trying!" Valkyrie was in tears, hysterical, banging away with the charger. They had a breather in his mouth and the charger had ahold of his heart, and his lungs were still going, but it was hopeless. The life signs were all flat.

  "Negative life."

  "No! No! No! Keep trying!" Smoke was rising from Sassin's scorched flesh.

  "Valkyrie—he's gone. He's gone. Valkyrie, please." Merlin gently pulled Valkyrie away from the body. Her armored hands were scarlet with blood.

  And Sassin the Assassin, Gamma Seven, was at last, truly, immortal. I was so stunned I could only lie there, sprawled on the deck between Priestess and Tara, ice cold flashes rippling over my flesh inside the A-suit, waiting, under siege, for whatever was to come next.

  "Badass, Badboy. Respond!" Dragon was in the cockpit now between Whit and Millina, calling Redhawk. We were out of the forest. A road flashed past below, then grasslands, then a series of forested ridges.

  "Badboy, Badass! Am I glad to hear your voice! Get me outta here!" He was right up ahead. The forest was burning, strewn with wreckage. A greasy cloud of black smoke shot past us. Then we spotted Beta Ten, hobbling out of the woods in a scorched A-suit.