The Legion and the Lioness

by Robert D. Armstrong

  He noticed me outside the door, lifting his head while narrowing his eyes at me. His glare appeared to scrutinize every fiber in my being in less than a second. He quickly glanced back down as if he was insulted by my presence. The other man sported a thick white beard, and he wore a military jumpsuit like mine. He had no rank insignia.

  A mid-forties, heavier set woman sat at the end of the table wearing a pair of headphones, jotting down some notes. Corvin and Drake stepped inside and sat down with me several steps behind in tow. I sat beside Drake, across the table from the Wall Street dickface.

  “That is why the translator software didn’t work, General Corvin. Too much interference.” The old woman said with a thick Russian accent. She took off her headphones and wiped her sweaty forehead with a handkerchief.

  “Well, what did he say?” I spoke up, cutting off Corvin. Everyone seemed to acknowledge my interruption. The translator hesitated for a few seconds. “Basically, this Russian man, he wants to trade information for fuel to come to Titan. He is fleeing Earth and seeks refuge here,” she said.

  “How did he get through without detection? Where is he now?” Corvin asked.

  “He did not say how he snuck through, but he is on his way to the Earth’s moon. He will hide on the dark side of the moon and go silent and await a response. He says he has enough fuel to make forty percent of the voyage to Titan. No more.”

  “If everything checks out, we can meet him halfway.” The man in the suit mumbled.

  “Isn’t the moon surrounded by android destroyers?” I asked.

  “They stay on the light side of the moon mostly.” The man in the suit answered. He pushed his glasses forward, tapping a pen on the desk staring at me. I felt he was simply tolerating my presence.

  “Anything else?” Corvin asked.

  “Nothing. He waits for us to respond,” the woman said.

  “Gotta feel good to hear another Russian voice from the old world,” Drake said to the woman. She paused, staring at him. “I don’t know. I think after the android war, we realized how trivial our borders were. Russian, Ukrainian, even Israeli or American, we have more in common than them. I’m glad to hear human voice from Earth, yes,” she said with a thick accent. I shifted my eyes toward Xena.

  “Good way to look at it,” Drake replied, nodding his head.

  The man in the suit stood up, putting his hands on the table. “Xena, authenticity of the voice?” he asked.

  “Ninety-nine percent chance this is a human voice, sir,” she said.

  “Is your pilot ready?” The man asked Corvin as if I wasn’t in the room.

  “She hasn’t completed the training, but—”

  “Can she fly the new tech?” he interrupted.

  “She’s the most capable pilot on Titan by a large margin, even with limited experience using new technology,” Xena answered confidently.

  “Mental evaluations?” the man asked. Go ahead, divulge my deepest, darkest secrets while you’re at it. I was a hair away from calling this guy out in front of everyone, but I didn’t want to mess up my chances. I really wanted to smack that arrogant look off his face. There weren’t many people that pissed me off just by their look, but he was one of them.

  “She’s on schedule, Arania has ensured me of that,” Corvin said, his eyes danced about the room briefly.

  “Good. This will be a good prelim mission for our new pilot. Find out what type of fuel we need for this man’s freighter, and let’s deliver it with the XU-97. Hopefully, it’s the methane variant they were using on Earth years ago. It’s extremely efficient and it’ll be less storage. We’ll meet him at the forty percent mark and see what he knows,” he said.

  “And Xena?” Corvin asked.

  “She goes. And Drake, of course. I want an onsite questioning of the refugee in case something happens before he gets to Titan. We need whatever information he has, now. If you can get anything before they leave, that would be ideal,” the man suggested. I felt he was implying interrogation instead of questioning.

  “Got it. What’s the math here, Xena?” Corvin asked.

  “Worst case, judging by his transmission equipment, he’s using a slower LU class freighter from the early 2070s. That will take him around twenty-four days to reach the forty percent portion to Titan. Fortunately, Saturn and Titan are approaching the closest point of our orbit near Earth,” Xena said.

  I thought about how quickly that was. Xena described it as ‘slow.’ Even the Orion took six months to travel nearly 1.2 billion kilometers from Earth to Titan.

  “Find out exactly what his setup is ASAP, so we can plan around it,” Corvin ordered the translator.

  “Yes, sir,” she answered.

  “It should take us no more than sixteen days at maximum payload in the XU-97 to reach our sixty percent portion of the voyage,” Xena said.

  “That leaves us a net gain of a few days,” Drake said, glaring over at me.

  “Corvin, get our brains on it, all related scientists. I want them working on every scenario, every situation, no surprises. We might only have a few days,” the well-dressed man said.

  Corvin leaned over in my ear. “You see, this Russian might not even be part of any resistance effort,” he said. I wasn’t sure if he was being honest or giving me false hope that going to Earth wasn’t off the table.

  The option to recover Luther still made the most sense to me. If there was a resistance, that meant more people. We could cross reference multiple intelligence sources instead of a singular Russian pilot to locate the target for Xena.

  The two unknown men stood up, walking near the exit. “General Corvin, send the response to the refugee and retrieve the information you need, then report back to us.”

  “Yes, sir.” Corvin and Drake stood up as they exited, I remained seated. As they closed the door, I stared up at Corvin.

  “I’m not going,” I said.

  “What?” His eyes widened.

  “If I’m risking my skin, it’ll be for Luther. You already know that. I want a guarantee,” I said.

  “If you want to play games, we have other pilots. Even Drake could handle this mission if we wanted,” he said.

  “It is unlikely that Colonel Drake or any of our other pilots could accomplish this mission if unforeseen circumstances were to occur. Captain Belic has extensive combat experience. Her file reveals near four thousand androids eliminated and three hundred and sixteen aerial attack drones shot down—”

  “Xena, shut up,” Corvin said. He smacked his hand on the table.

  “Understood, General,” Xena replied.

  “Even your robot gets it. You have one fighter jet, that’s it. It was obviously customized with me in mind. Do you want a greenhorn piloting your investment, or an ace?” I put my feet up on the table, reclining back in the comfy seat.

  I saw fire in Corvin’s eyes as he looked me down. He bit his bottom lip, then stormed toward the exit, slamming the door behind him. I’d never seen him so upset and, frankly, it was a nice change. I knew he needed me. That jet wasn’t something to give to a trainee pilot or a robot. You don’t throw an amateur jockey on a racehorse. It doesn’t work that way.

  “I’m not sure that was the best idea,” Drake mumbled.

  “Yeah? So, I should just go along with whatever the fuck they come up with, right? Here, fly to Pluto, make a snowman while you’re there,” I asked.

  “It’s highly unlikely we will ever go to Pluto. Also, Pluto is considered a minor planet, Captain,” Xena injected.

  “Thanks for the clarification, Xena. I was extremely worried we might end up there,” I said softly. She stared back at me confused. She probably needed a software patch to deal with a natural born smartass like myself.

  “I’m just saying, you’re making life difficult for Corvin. That can’t be good for you, or us rather. And yeah, I hate to say it, but if we did run into problems, Xena’s right, I’m not sure if I could handle it,” Drake admitted.

  I shrugged. “Xena’s
your only hope then. To her credit, she did some pretty fancy flying on the training mission.”

  “That route is predetermined,” Drake whispered.

  “Oh? Never mind then. You’re completely fucked,” I said, gleaming at Xena. Drake looked ahead at nothing, his face full of worry.

  “Level with me, Drake. And please, be honest. Why are you doing this? You realize if I don’t go, your chances of survival have reduced significantly. You wanna be a hero?” I asked.

  “No.” He sat back down, slapping his meaty forearms on the table. “Truthfully, when I heard they might wake you up, I volunteered as a candidate.”

  “Why is that? You wanted me to tell you about the good ol’ days?” I asked.

  “No. Arania, the psychologist, she told me about your husband. She didn’t know much about him, but she told me he went under the ice for you.” He said looking away, interlocking his fingers.

  “So, you’re a romantic. You were inspired? Come on.” I cocked an eyebrow.

  “Guilty as charged.” He shook his head. “Kidding. No, I mean it's obvious we’re fighting for survival, literally. If the androids decide to come here, it’s over—”

  “Simulation data reveals no one would survive an orbital strike based on data collected from the moon bombing runs.”

  “Thank you, Xena. That’ll be all.” Drake raised his eyebrows and glanced back at me.

  “You going to answer my question or not?” I asked.

  “You don’t let up.” He stood, unzipping his jumpsuit top, revealing a shredded, thick upper body. He was a living muscular anatomy chart. He didn’t have any tattoos like I originally assumed, but there was plenty to look at.

  “Um, I’m a married woman,” I said. He chuckled, pointing out a huge scar on his lower back.

  “Uh, kidney?” I asked. He zipped up his top.

  “Yep, I needed one.”

  “Needed?” I asked.

  “A guy I didn’t even know stepped up. I had been waiting for four months. It was posted, then suddenly this guy shows up and said he’d do it. Young, in his mid-twenties they said,” Drake explained.

  “You never got his name?”

  “Nope. He said he was a match and he wanted to remain anonymous,” Drake said.

  “Whoa. Heavy stuff,” I said.

  “Yeah. I thought about it for weeks, who it might be. Sometimes I’d sit around for hours. Then I started working out, eating better, you know, tried to take advantage of my extension.” Drake grinned.

  “Oh, okay, gotcha. It’s all starting to make more sense now,” I replied, squinting my eyes at him.

  “I found beauty in what he did. Sure, you can look at the negative in humanity, there’s plenty of it, but I prefer to look at our best qualities, like sacrifice. Selfless sacrifice. Anonymous, yet conscious. That’s as innately human as it gets, for me. That’s what makes us different from them,” Drake said, cutting his eyes at Xena.

  He glared back at me. “What your husband did. He had to have known he might not ever wake up, but he did it anyway.” Drake clenched his fists.

  “If you ever get to meet him, it’ll make sense,” I replied.

  “That’s what I want. Ready to spit in the face of fear for what I believe. I believe that is worth dying for, so that someone else can feel what you felt, what Luther felt, what I felt when that man gave me a part of his body, how it changed my outlook. Those are things so powerful, after you feel it, we know it’s worth dying for. That is living, Victoria,” he said.

  “And to think, all this time I thought you were a jock with just enough brains to slither through officer training.” I nodded slowly. Fuck. I was wrong. This guy had some depth I didn’t expect. He seemed to have a code about him at least, a moral barometer. I enjoyed hearing his contemplative side. The jury was still out, but maybe he wasn’t half bad.

  “Thanks. I finished second in my class.” Drake grinned.

  “Out of how many?” I asked.

  “Ninety-one.”

  “See, I graduated high school with five times that many,” I said.

  “Yeah, we don’t have the population up to snuff, but we’ll get there one day.”

  “Hopefully.” I glanced up at the ceiling.

  “We will,” he whispered confidently, knitting his eyebrows together. I looked at him for a couple moments. I instantly felt more at ease about him after his revelation.

  “Well, I’ve had enough for today. I’m headed back to my room for the evening. Let me know if you hear anything,” I said.

  “You’ll be the first to know if I do,” Drake replied. I walked to the exit, past Xena standing guard. I glanced toward the hangar bay around the bend. I wanted to fly the XU-97 again to unwind, maybe take it for a spin around the moon. I remembered doing that back in the navy. Nothing like Mach speeds to clear the mind.

  “Captain.” Xena stopped me. I snapped over my shoulder at her standing in the doorway. Her wide exoskeleton and armored shoulders nearly touched the doorframe on each side. She appeared worried. Somehow, her synthetic features appeared long.

  “Yeah?” I asked.

  “I think it’s vital to the survival of your species that you pilot the XU-97. We need that intelligence, and we need the refugee to tell us what he knows. If we don’t get them the fuel, the opportunity could be lost,” she said. I thought it was odd for Xena to have such a genuine sense of urgency and emphasis on my ability.

  “No offense, but why do you care? If your brothers and sisters show up, it’ll be a quick death for us all,” I said. Suddenly, Xena ran me down. I attempted to move back, but her movement was so fast, I couldn’t react, like facing down a bullet train blasting through a tunnel.

  She grabbed my collar with one hand, tightening the fabric around my neck to the point of slight discomfort. It was clear her intentions were not to hurt me, she could have killed me with ease.

  “Xena! Stop!” I shouted.

  I began bashing her face with the palm of my hand. Her short, white wig flopped back and forth with each impact, but it didn’t seem to faze her, so I stopped.

  I heard a security guard yelling from down the hall. “Hey! Hey! Release her immediately!” he yelled at Xena, running towards us with a rifle drawn.

  “Let go of me!” I yelled.

  Xena ducked close to me, unconcerned by the guards approaching. She stared into my eyes intensely. “Don’t assume it’ll be a quick death for you all. Many will see this cold blue gaze in their last moments. You know what they’re capable of, don’t you? Why not consider the implications of your actions, Captain? Humanity needs you,” Xena warned. She released me slowly as I backed away, rubbing my neck.

  If Titan was attacked, it was possible some residing here might survive the orbital bombardment. What did that mean for those survivors? They would likely be hunted underground like mice under floorboards.

  The robot was right. The logical objective would be to fight for my species in any way I could, but I was human, a ball of stress and emotions that needed an anchor in this world.

  Two more guards ran us down, surrounding Xena and I. “Step away!” one of the guards screamed as they pointed rifles at Xena.

  “I’m fine. Fine! I ordered Xena to do that. We had martial arts training this morning and I was attempting to use a self-defense move,” I lied. The guards slowly lowered their weapons, glancing at one another.

  Xena tilted her head, confused. Then her eyes pulsed, like a lightbulb going off in her head. “Yes, and you’ve failed miserably, Captain,” Xena went along with it.

  “We must practice choke defense in greater detail.” Xena smiled unnaturally at the guards. It appeared forced, as if some of the muscles designed for smiling were scraped for this android model.

  “So, tomorrow then, Captain?” Xena asked.

  “Ah, yep. Yes, tomorrow is good,” I replied. She turned her back to the guards and walked away casually.

  “Fellas.” I nodded, passing the guards.

  “Hey. Uh,
if you want any training from a real security specialist, my quarters are on section bravo, room one-nineteen. I give private lessons.” The guard smirked. His comrade snickered.

  “Thanks, but I’ll stick with the robot.”

  Chapter 8

  THE NEXT MORNING, I woke up early. I opened the blinds and turned my chair toward the live stream window, propping my feet up. I stared out into the drab mist for a bit. I could barely see Saturn the haze was so thick. My foot accidentally touched the screen.

  “View actual perspective? Yes or no?” A touch screen prompt appeared on the fake scenery.

  “What?” I mumbled, pressing yes. I didn’t know that was a possibility. The screen slowly faded from the projection to an actual window view.

  “Shit.” It seemed like I was a passenger on a jet taking as the landscape hurried by. The viewing angle was high from the steep track slope, giving me more a view of the mountains and clouds. I actually enjoyed this view more than staring at a still image, but I could understand why most wouldn’t. This was probably an attempt to keep people sane.

  I decided to get up early and go talk to Corvin in person. I had slept on my actions from the day before. Most of it felt warranted, but I wasn’t helping my situation, or Luther’s, by being so combative.

  I headed around the long way, taking a new route. I saw from above that the installation was shaped like a ladder. The outer ‘rails’ were shaped like bullet trains while the ‘steps’ in-between them were tubes or terminals, and both were functional as living or working spaces. As I explored, I noticed these tubes had all sorts of variety in size. Some were forty meters wide or more while others half that. One was a greenhouse, another a supermarket, even schools.

  ‘Hidmas Elementary School’ one tube entrance read.

  The children were lined up single file on both sides of the door. It appeared to be an even number on each side, maybe sixty students total. I stood there observing them. They were all so cute in their little outfits, so many different races and cultures. They seemed quiet and well behaved, I assumed they were waiting for their teacher.