Secret of the Legion

by Marshall S. Thomas

  "Damn," I said miserably. "I hate this."

  "Come on, Thinker," Redhawk said. "The whole planet's out there! Cheer up! Give 'em a smile! Tell 'em there was nothing to it. KCA will hate it."

  If you view the official recordings of that event, you'll note that I'm not smiling, but I'm not frowning either. Perhaps paralyzed is the word. What a day! Brisk, clean, biting air. The flags flapped in a gusty wind. The ConFree anthem, "The Black March," blasted away as we all stood there like statues. Then the Legion chant, "Soldier of the Legion," crawled over my skin. Tara, pale and imperial, all in black, speaking—I didn't hear a word. Dragon and Whit and the brain police, Lock and Varna and the whole gang—they were all there, along with a brace of Legion brass I had never seen before. Some of them spoke, too.

  Then we all saluted each other and the nonsense was over and Gildron stood before Tara, looking down at her tentatively. She raised her head and stretched out one arm and touched him lightly on a shoulder, as if to confirm that he was really there. Then he opened his massive arms and gently embraced her, just as if he was gathering in a particularly delicate bouquet of flowers. And Tara put her head right down on his chest and closed her eyes and just stood there in his grasp, almost floating away. I could hardly believe it. That certainly wasn't the Tara I knew. But before I could get over my amazement, Whit came rocketing out of the crowd and jumped right into Redhawk's arms. He howled with delight and I thought he was going to rip her clothes off her right there but she whispered in his ear and I guess she must have persuaded him to hold off, because he did. Dragon came out of the crowd, grinning. He had just lost Whit, but he had not seen Valkyrie since that fatal day in the Mound. They embraced, fiercely. I didn't mind. I knew exactly how they felt.

  ***

  I had my appointment with Tara a few days later. Her offices were near the top of a rather busy cube hive that functioned as the brains of the Lost Command. The plaque over the main entrance downstairs read GALACTIC INFORMATION. Tara's outer office was full of people waiting to see her. She was a popular kid. An intense girl with very short blonde hair showed me into a quiet little alcove, and then the doors slid open to Tara's inner sanctum. She sat at a large shiny desk littered with plastic printouts and holos and solids. One side of the desk glowed with d-screens and comsets and starlinks. A low murmur from the screens sounded like waves washing peacefully onto a distant beach. A sheet of polarized plex formed one entire wall, lighting the room up to a suppressed white glow. Tara rose from her chair, tossed back her hair, and came forward to greet me. She was looking considerably better than the last time I'd seen her.

  "Hello, Wester. Lori, freeze the calls. I want a little peace and quiet."

  "Yes sir," the blonde said as the doors slid shut behind her.

  "Have a seat, Wester. How are you? How are you all? Are Ten and Eleven settling in all right?" She gestured to a leatherette air sofa in one corner. It was yielding and comfortable. We had a spectacular view of the lake.

  "They're fine," I said. "This is a nice office. I guess you're more important than ever now."

  "The office doesn't mean anything to me, Wester. I'd work in a tent if I had to, you know me. But I guess…in one sense, you're right. Your mission was completely successful—you gave us the Star. I feel as if a great, suffocating weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I feel so much better, Wester, you have no idea how my health has improved."

  "You look a lot better." Her pale brown skin was glowing with health, her auburn hair was shining, and her eyes were sparkling.

  "Wester, I'd like to thank you. Not just on behalf of the Legion, and the Lost Command, and ConFree—the real ConFree—and all our descendants, but I'd also like to thank you personally. You've certainly saved my life. Those witch doctors said I was dying, and I don't doubt them. The Star was killing me, but it's not, not any more. Now that we've actually got it, I can slow down. Gildron understands it better than I. The science freaks are all over him now. He's stronger than I am—mentally stronger. I can think on a different level now, back in the psycher's world, and let Gildron communicate with the demons from the Star. Yes—you've certainly saved my life."

  "You're using him, aren't you?"

  "What?"

  "You're using Gildron. You…"

  "Don't bother saying it! I see what you think. You've always had a low opinion of me, haven't you, Wester? You think of me as some kind of cold, calculating biogen. Well, I'm not. I'm a psycher, yes, but I'm human, too. All I've wanted for years is to be human. You think I was lying to Gildron, about my love for him? Fine, think it—I don't care. The truth will out, in the end. Truth always triumphs, Wester. You'll see!"

  "Yes, sir," I said sarcastically.

  "You doubt your own role, too—don't bother saying it! You're a damned hero, Three. A hero! Don't deny it—the truth will out!"

  "A hero? You're joking! What did I do?"

  "You brought us the Star!"

  "I did nothing. I'm no hero. I botched everything I touched. I got my element captured by a gang of stone-age soldiers, then to top that I got myself and Valkyrie captured by ConFree, almost as soon as they dropped. I spilled my guts to Two Four One immediately; I led him right to the Star, just as he had planned. Then I slaughtered a whole aircar full of Legion soldiers and abandoned my wife and son to the mercy of a vengeful enemy after vowing never to leave them again. It's a holy miracle I didn't deliver the Star right to ConFree. I didn't get you the Star; Gildron did. You want to thank somebody, thank him. Hero? I feel like a coward. I'd like to crawl in a hole and die."

  "You need some rest, Wester," she said, looking at me with some concern. "Your mind is in turmoil. It's understandable. You're concerned about your wife and son. I'm not going to lie to you, Wester. The situation on Andrion is not good, but we're monitoring it closely. You will learn everything that we know about Andrion, I promise you that."

  "I feel better already," I said gloomily. I was getting a headache, a dull ache behind my eyeballs. "Any idea when Andrion will be ours again?"

  "It's too early to tell. But we expect the ConFree Council to oust KCA and come to terms with the LC once it sinks in that we have the Star."

  "Why should they do that? What's the alternative?"

  "The alternative is war," she said. "Civil war, among the Confederation of Free Worlds. It can only strengthen the System. KCA would like that, except he must know it would cost him his job—maybe his life."

  I sighed. "I guess I'm just tired, Tara. I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so negative. It's just that…I haven't got much left."

  "You may have prevented a galactic war, Wester. Please don't doubt the value of what you've done. We know…it was done at considerable personal sacrifice. That's why I called you a hero. Not just because your mission was successful. I know what it meant to you, leaving your family behind on Andrion."

  "Yeah, sure. I'm a hero. Whatever you say. Let's not talk about it any more, all right?" I looked out over the lake. It seemed so peaceful. I was getting a headache, all right—the damned thing just wouldn't go away.

  "One? Tara. Do you have a spare frac?" She was standing by her desk, speaking into a darkened d-screen.

  "No," the response came. A wise answer, I thought—Tara was nothing but trouble.

  "See you in five," Tara retorted casually. "Let's go, Wester. There's someone I'd like you to meet."

  "He didn't sound too anxious to see you," I said, rising from the sofa.

  "He was only kidding. He's always got time for me—and you."

  We took an elevator that shot downwards so fast it left me slightly dizzy.

  "Your friend lives in the basement?"

  "No, Wester. The War Room's down here."

  The door snapped open to a small airlock where several alert Legion soldiers in blacks and A-vests and E's strapped to their chests scanned our ID's before activating another door. We strolled through a spotless corridor full of Legion desk jockeys hurrying importantly from door to door.


  "Who are we going to see," I asked. "Info One?" I figured she was taking me to see her superior, the Lost Command's Galactic Information chief.

  "No," she replied. "It's Two Two One." Two Two One! I froze, as she triggered a vault door open. Two Two One was LC One, the Commander of the 22nd Legion, the Rimguard, the Black Legion. He was the Lost Command's maximum leader, the man who had led the 22nd Legion and half of Outvac Fleet Command into outright rebellion against Kenton Cotter-Arc's ConFree leadership. He had seized the far outvac for the Legion, defying the entire galaxy. He was the Lost Command, all by himself. I had heard a lot about him, but had never met him.

  We stepped into a hushed twilight world glowing with blacklights of phospho violet. It was a huge room, full of silvery dust, hanging in the air—stars! The space between the stars was dotted with glowing specks and airy highways, and it was all labelled, tiny icy letters and symbols, floating beside each display. A shadowy group of officers stood around the controls in the center of the floor, manipulating the display, reaching up into the dark with thin pink laser pointers. This was the War Room, displaying the entire Outvac. All of Fleetcom was up there, I knew, and all of ConFree's forces as well. It was in this impregnable fortress, far below the ground, that the Lost Command would direct the war against ConFree, should it ever come to that.

  A figure detached itself from the group around the controls. It was hard to make him out in the dark. "Tara!" he said. "Good. Follow me."

  He led us into a quiet little room dominated by a large conference table lit up by soft white lights under walls covered with darkened d-screens.

  "Can I get you something?" He asked us, fussing over a snackmod set up on a side table. He was in his blacks—his back was to me. Tara did not respond.

  "No, thanks," I said, settling into an airchair. I couldn't quite picture LC One getting me anything at all.

  "Try one of these," he said, ignoring my comment and handing me a cup of hot dox. "Rose Mountain Supreme. It's strong and sweet." He was slim and fit, but the slightly yellowish skin on his face appeared to be stretched tightly over the bones. His eyes glinted like black opal. A single lock of straight black hair hung loosely over one eye. I popped my dox open, conscious of his eyes peering right at me. He seemed strangely fragile. They said LC One was hundreds of years old. They said he was the ultimate warrior, and that he had been wounded so many times that most of his body was now artificial.

  "One, this is Beta Three," Tara said. "Warname Thinker. " She had also accepted a dox, and was holding it delicately with both hands. "In the flesh. Beta Three, Two Two One." She raised her cup, and took a sip.

  "Tara has told me a great deal about you, trooper," he said. "I told her I wanted to meet you. You've changed history, you know. I want to thank you—personally—for what you've done."

  "I haven't done anything, sir." I kept my eyes focused on the table. "I already told Tara. Gildron is your man—not me. He kept the Star for us, and brought it back. Not me."

  "You were in command, trooper. Tell me…why did you do it?"

  "I'm a soldier, sir. A soldier of the Legion."

  "Any doubts—now?"

  "Yes sir. I think we should destroy it."

  He laughed, easily. "Well, you may be right. That's still under discussion. How's the dox?"

  "Good, sir. Very good."

  "I understand you and Beta Eleven had a little run-in with Lowdrop."

  "Yes sir."

  "I have the greatest sympathy for him. He was a good trooper. I knew him in the Plague Wars. He lost everything there was to lose. Finally he lost his soul. He's an evil man, now. He's obsessed with his career but he's chosen the wrong side. It's a shame. Rest assured, justice will be done. He's a vile traitor, and we'll track him down and execute him, sooner or later. Justice will always be done, as long as there's life in my body."

  I didn't say anything. The Plague Wars—that was several centuries ago. I wondered how tired Two Two One was. I was just out of Hell, it seemed like only a few years ago, and I was exhausted already.

  "Trooper, you know the Legion doesn't give out awards or medals or ribbons. We figure every soldier is a hero, or he wouldn't be here in the first place. And your recognition comes when your name shows up on the Monument to the Dead. However, in my position I can occasionally reward people for exceptional deeds. You're qualified and I'd like to reward you. Tell me—is there anything I could do for you that you would appreciate? What do you want? What do you need?"

  I stared at him blankly.

  "Take your time, trooper. There's no rush."

  "There is something I want," I said. "An assignment to Andrion Two—as soon as it's possible. Yes—that's what I want. That's all I want."

  "That's easily done. See to it, Tara."

  "Sure," she said casually.

  "What kind of position did you have in mind?" LC One asked.

  "It doesn't matter," I replied. "Anything. I can wash the dishes. Whatever."

  He turned in surprise to Tara. She smiled. "The Systies had him washing dishes on Nimbos," she explained.

  He laughed, delighted. "Well, I think we can come up with something better than that! We'll surprise you. Of course, we've got to get Andrion back first. I'd like you to see something, trooper. You too, Tara." He touched a control on the arm of his chair and one of the wall screens came alive. A slight, dark, sallow man dressed in ConFree's formal dark plum uniform was looking thoughtfully out of the screen from behind a gleaming desk.

  "It won't work, Pointman," he said. "You're a fool if you think it will make any difference at all. You know ConFree even better than I. Ask yourself what their reaction will be."

  "I received this shortly after you lifted off from Andrion, trooper," LC One said. "KCA is an old acquaintance. He took an instant dislike to me when we first met, but that was his reaction to most people."

  "You're doomed, Pointman," KCA said. "You and your whole damned Command. You are lost—it's a good name. The Lost Command. You've led them astray, Pointman. Far, far astray. Do you really think the Star will make any difference? You were always a hopeless romantic. I must say I'm not surprised to see you in this dilemma. And I don't have any sympathy. But think of your Command!"

  He sighed, and looked away. He was absentmindedly tapping a light pen against his desk. "Doomed," he said again. "The ConFree Council and the Legion High Command have sworn out a warrant for your arrest and execution on charges of high treason, mutiny, rebellion, sabotage, piracy, aiding the enemy, multiple murder, and a host of lesser charges. Think about it, Pointman! You've lost! It doesn't matter about the Star. Let's say, for the sake of argument, that I disappear tomorrow. Does that solve your problem? What do you really think will happen to you and your Command? You're rebels. You, personally, have led a mutiny, the first mutiny ever for the ConFree Legion. You're a blot in Legion history, Pointman. You have defied the Confederation of Free Worlds and all it stands for. You're supposed to be a soldier, not a politician. You're supposed to defend ConFree, not attack it—or defy it." He leaned forward eagerly, looking into the screen.

  "The terms will be unconditional surrender. You know that—it has to be! You and your officers will be executed. And your Legion will be disbanded. The old Twenty-Second, the proud old Rimguard, the invincible Black Legion, ConFree's sword, with its ancient war flags lowered to the dust, for the last time—you will have accomplished all that, Pointman." KCA was faintly smiling, and LC One was pale and bristling—I could almost feel the hate radiating from him.

  "So you see, Pointman, you've lost—no matter what. So don't get so cocky about your latest little caper. And don't think it's over! You can tell all the stories you want, about what I allegedly planned to do with the Star, but the fact is you've got the Star, not me. And you're not giving it to ConFree, are you? That's the way ConFree sees it, Pointman. Have a pleasant day. I'll see you next through the plex of your execution chamber." The screen faded to black.

  "What a snake!" Tara remarked. />
  "He's crazier than Lowdrop," I said. The man looked like a clerk but talked like a dangerous psychotic.

  "He's frightened," LC One said, "with good reason. He failed in his mission to seize the Star. If he had the Star, he could claim success, and the LC would be a mere annoyance, to be neutralized at ConFree's leisure. His personal position in ConFree would be assured, and our future would be bleak. But he's failed. We have the Star. The ConFree Council will be annoyed at his failure, especially when they learn the Star was in their grasp on Andrion all the time, and not on Dindabai, as they had thought. There will be consequences. What they will be, I don't know. Perhaps they'll actually decide to attack us. I've provided full documentation to the Council of KCA's attempt to seize the Omni ship for the System on Uldo, and their first try to take the Star on Andrion Two. Whether the Council will believe it is an open question."

  "Why not just give the Star to ConFree?" I asked. "That would solve the problem, wouldn't it?"

  "No, it wouldn't. KCA is ConFree—I'd be giving it to him. No, he's got to go first. Once he's gone, we'll get back together with ConFree—once I know the Star is safe. He's the traitor, not me—not us. He's the one who wanted to weaken the Legion by passing vital military secrets to the enemy, the System. Once ConFree realizes that, we'll work it out."

  "He didn't make it sound as if there was much to work out."

  "He's absolutely right, about what will happen to me. I am a rebel, and the leader of a mutiny. But I'm not a traitor. When I walked under the Legion gate that first time I swore an oath to trust no Earther worm, nor any mortal man, but only the mark of the Legion. You remember it…'I have burnt the book of laws, to serve the Deadman's cause, as a soldier of the Legion.' They made me put a hand on our only sacred trust, the ConFree Constitution. It was a single page, written in blood by free men, and I swore to defend it against all enemies, foreign and domestic. I still remember that last paragraph. It said a free people are duty bound to overthrow a tyrannical government, and if they do not do so, they deserve to be slaves. I still remember that." He paused, and seemed to be looking into the past.