Secret of the Legion

by Marshall S. Thomas

  "ALERT! VAC DRIVE SHUTTING DOWN! WE ARE IN A MAG FIELD!"

  "That's it, we're finished."

  "Soldiers of the Legion!" It was Tara's voice, icy and cruel. "Let's show these bastards how to die. Activate all internal defensive systems! Charge the skin! Prep to repel boarders!" They had us in a mag field. We were powerless, drifting, trapped, defenseless. We couldn't even fire, in a mag field. I almost laughed, it was so insane. A ship full of Legion crazies—we were about as defenseless as a basket of pit vipers. We were praying for death and we wanted as much company as possible. We wanted the O's to show up. We were all set to welcome them.

  "Last fighter has been destroyed."

  "Valiant warriors! We join you soon!" Tara was raving, but it made perfect sense right then.

  "Let me activate the scuttle charges," Slambang Sue urged her eagerly. "We can wait until they board, then take them all out."

  "No! They'll have to earn it. Lock by lock, cube by cube. A river of blood. How can we deny them, if they earn it? But they'll have to kill every one of us—one by one. They'll remember it. They'll remember us!"

  That fighter—a magnificent suicide, for us. How could we do anything less? Only death would do, I knew. I felt strangely calm, even though the battle was still raging all around us. I unlinked and cat-walked my way over to the arms locker by the door. The grav was gone and things were floating around the bridge. I snapped open the locker and took out an E Mark 3 and held it tightly. It felt good. It felt like a lover. I pulled out a belt of psybloc grenades, just in case.

  "Open the locks, Tara," I said. "I'm going to defend the bridge from outside. You direct the defense."

  "God bless you, Wester." The door to the bridge snapped open. I took one last look out the viewports. That once-dark sky was a glittering tracery of lost missiles and dying starships and brand new asteroid swarms of shredded cenite and microscopic little fragments of flesh and bones. I stepped out into the corridor.

  "Close the door, Tara. And don't worry about it any more. Nobody's getting past me." The airlock door slid shut behind me. Time seemed to be slowing down somehow. I could feel the blood pumping in my veins. I suddenly realized Gildron was standing right beside me, armed with an E. He grinned at me through his visor and I felt good, about everything. Gildron! He had stood with me once before, in that Omni ship, against the O's. His woman was on that bridge. No, they weren't going to get past us. We placed our backs against the door to the bridge, planted our mag boots firmly on the deck, and slid the safeties off our E's. Things weren't complex any more. Things were very, very simple. I liked it that way.

  "They may not be real," Gildron said.

  "I know," I replied. The skin of our ship was a death trap. Not even a microbe would survive an encounter with it. And any unlucky fool who blew a hole in it and got in anyway would get a very hostile reception from the Strike Force. The O weren't easy to kill, but we knew how to do it. The only trouble was, I was pretty sure the O weren't going to make it easy for us. We might have been crazy, but they weren't. They didn't want to die.

  "ALERT! HOSTILE VAC PROJECTIONS!"

  "O's on board!" The report was punctuated with auto x.

  "Three O's!" More firing.

  "Psybloc!"

  "Intruders in C corridor!"

  "Intruders on B deck!"

  "Fire vac!"

  "O's outside the control room!"

  "They're holos!"

  Two of them appeared suddenly in the corridor before us shimmering in a field of light, two frighteningly tall, ghostly figures looming over us like specters, clad in bright armor, limbs bending in all the wrong places, long spidery arms going up…I fired on autovac, convulsed. Gildron fired at the same instant. The holos dissolved in the vac, flickered, re-formed, dissolved again.

  "Vac works!" I shouted. The O's were trying to over-run us with holos. They knew we could kill O's, but nobody could kill holos. And these holos had one big advantage. They projected vac force. They had the power to affect material objects, and they were equipped with some kind of energy weapon that was most effective. The Legion could do holos, but they were only projected light images. They couldn't hurt the living. Gildron and I knew all about Omni holos. We had fought them before. We knew that only vac would stop them.

  The light fields swirled and re-formed. We blasted them again with vac. It was deafening. I shot out a few psybloc, just to be sure. The psybloc grenades ricocheted off the walls and rolled down the corridor, spitting white-hot sparks, dazzling my eyes. As far as we knew the O's holos couldn't project psypower, but if they did we were done for.

  Another O suddenly materialized, floating in the air. I hit it with vac and it dissolved into sparkling fragments of light. We knew the O's couldn't get into the bridge with holos. The bridge was lined with a vac field that holos could not penetrate, but the rest of the ship was vulnerable.

  Gildron and I were all that stood between the bridge and the O's.

  Three more O's materialized before us. Now there were six of them appearing at random, floating freely, carrying strange devices, running at us along the walls and ceiling upside down, charging into our autovac and disappearing. All they needed was a few fracs to energize their exotic weapons but we weren't giving it to them. The whole corridor was a blazing sheen of flashing light, autovac exploding everywhere, O's appearing and disappearing, light fields fading and flickering and reforming, Gildron and I with our backs to the door of the bridge, firing without pause.

  I saw it coming. A long, gleaming, metallic arm, momentarily there, materializing out of the chaos. An alien hand, opening. A hot sparkling point of light, burning in the O's palm, then flashing right to us at blinding speed.

  It was a soundless burst of light, brighter than a sun. I looked up weakly from somewhere. I seemed to be floating in a field of sparkling stars. They were orbiting all around me. The corridor was spinning gently and I could not understand why everything appeared to be upside down. It was suddenly as quiet as a tomb. The O's were all there, fully formed, ignoring me. This was a big surprise to me. Why was I not firing? It was really strange—I should have been firing at the O's. Then I realized my E was no longer in my grasp. I stared stupidly at my empty, gloved hands. No E! What the hell! And everything was becoming darker and colder. The dark was rushing in—and there was nothing at all I could do.

  Chapter 15

  Perdition

  I awoke to chaos. It was totally dark and I was rolling around in a tangled mass of bodies. As I slowly regained my wits, I realized that I was being smothered in bodies. Hands and arms and feet were thumping against me. We seemed to be falling slowly together, an avalanche of people. And there was a low moaning, all around me, a despairing whimper of hopeless protest.

  I brought my arms up to block my face. I couldn't see a thing and I had no idea where I was. It was terrifying. There was a massive shudder, a minor earthquake, and the movement slowed and seemed to stabilize. It was only then that I realized ship's grav had been restored.

  Then the fear overwhelmed me, a bolt of icy terror that I remembered well. It was irresistible. People were crying out in horror.

  "What happened?" I choked.

  "The O's are here," someone replied. "The holos overwhelmed us. They took the ship."

  And then I understood. The holos had overrun our ship, neutralizing all opposition, probably by sheer numbers, and then the O's had arrived in person to examine their captive prey. The O's were strutting around our ship, projecting psypower, and we were all disarmed and helpless. Psypower—it was the end for us. Without psybloc, no human could counter the O's tremendous psychic power. Not even a strong psycher like Tara could come close. We were puppets of their will, terrified and cringing, anxious only to avoid their wrath. I knew. I had met the O's before.

  A blue-white light flicked on. Someone still had a flash—it illuminated us harshly, a great tangle of bodies, pale frightened faces like wet mushrooms trapped inside a gritty, sweating metal cylinder. Th
ere must have been twenty or thirty of us, I thought, bodies packed tightly together. Our comtops were all missing, but we still had litesuits and boots.

  "What is this place?" I whispered to the person next to me—he was almost lying on top of me.

  "Don't know. We had to go in here. I think it belongs to the O's."

  "Is everybody all right?"

  "Eighteen is bleeding pretty bad. Has anyone got a medpak?"

  "I'm a medic. I've got one." A girl, fumbling at her waist. "Could you get off me, please? Where is he?"

  "Anybody else hurt?"

  "They're going to kill us."

  "Shut down."

  The cylinder rolled again, a grating sound, moans and cries of protest, and we shifted places, slowly tumbling head over heels to a new position.

  Light suddenly flooded in, a large hatch had popped open at one end of our prison. Terror rushed in like a cold breeze and a hard hand crushed my heart. I could hardly breathe. I shrieked, trying to hide behind the others, terrified one of the O's would spot me. Four people come scrambling in, whimpering, climbing over those closest to the opening. The hatch clanged shut behind them. We breathed again. The O's were out there! I knew it was impossible to resist them once they had you in their mental grip.

  The fellow with the flash had it on again. It was getting very, very crowded in our new home.

  "Have you got the bleeding?"

  "There—that's better."

  "We're really screwed."

  "Do you think it's true the O's eat people?"

  "They drink blood. They'll keep us alive for that."

  "Shut down!"

  "Who are you? Morale officer? You're out of a job!"

  "Has anybody got psybloc?" I asked.

  "Are you joking? That's the first thing they took."

  "Thinker, is that it? It's Whit!"

  "Whit—are you all right?"

  "Oh, we're fine! Scut! How is it?"

  "I've still got a boot knife," somebody said.

  "I'd suggest suicide," somebody else responded.

  The cylinder rolled again, then lurched giddily. It almost felt as if we were floating, gliding gently through the air. Then there was a harsh clatter, and a mysterious hissing. The cylinder shuddered again, and seemed to lock into position somewhere. All movement stopped.

  "Any guesses?"

  "It's dinnertime, and we're in the oven."

  "It's not over," I said.

  "Who said that? Aren't you one of the geniuses who thought up this mission?"

  "It's not over until it's over," I said. "And it's not over yet. Nobody in the Legion should ever give up hope. Stick together—and don't ever give up." Silence greeted my statement. I could hardly believe I had said it myself—but I guess I had meant it.

  ***

  More than ten hours were to elapse before we were to get a glimpse of our fate. Most of that was spent in stardrive, we were pretty sure. Then there was another ordeal of rolling around inside our prison and an intense period of violent shaking. I was designated Acting One for our pitiful cylinder full of defeated soldiers. Tara had appointed me Deputy Mission Commander earlier, so there was no way I could say no.

  Someone passed around a canteen. It was surprising how much equipment we still had, even after the O's took from us all they wanted. They appeared to be primarily concerned with biobloc and energy weapons. A lot of people still had cold knives and toolpaks.

  I organized the unit as best I could. We had one wounded, but we also had a medic and a medpak, and the casualty was soon stabilized. I instructed everyone to conceal everything that might prove useful, like canteens, toolpaks, ratpaks and knives. I didn't know where we were going, and I didn't want to lose anything. I didn't know anyone else except Whit, but that didn't matter. We were all soldiers of the Legion.

  Whit crawled over to me and snuggled up close. It felt good. We'd certainly been through a lot together. She'd gotten me off Mongera, I'd gotten her off Katag, and she'd gotten me off Nimbos. Neither one of us would have made it without the other.

  The last portion of our ride was quite bumpy. When it was over we seemed to be gliding smoothly for awhile, then we settled once again.

  The pressure suddenly began to build, while hidden vents hissed violently. It built and built. I clapped my hands over my ears. Someone screamed. My eyeballs were ready to pop—surely they were going to kill us!

  The hatch snapped open and a heavy blast of gas shot us all out of the cylinder, human cannonballs, arcing out into whatever was to be.

  I looked up from where I had fallen, stunned and blinking, my eyes adjusting from the dark. I was lying on my back in a pool of mud. A dark angry sky hung close overhead, spitting a cold nasty rain. My companions were all around me, looking up from the mud. And the cylinders were everywhere, a dirty field full of rusty metal containers, hatches still open, leaking gas, discarded and forgotten. A massive black ship loomed beyond the cylinders, motionless, winking a single evil red eye. I had never seen anything like it, but concluded it was a shuttle, and had transported the cylinders—and us—downside.

  I got up cautiously. Harsh cold air burnt in my throat. Icy, poisonous black rain stained my litesuit. The grav was crushing. It was tough just to stand. An oppressive dark sky covered with rolling clouds. A hopeless landscape of mud and rocks, as far as I could see, inhabited by…us. There were plenty of cylinders, and they had all been full with our shipmates, and now hundreds of Legionnaires were rising from the mud and looking around and organizing themselves for whatever lay ahead.

  That's when the terror hit us again. I fell back to the mud, stunned, straining to breathe, my limbs twitching and helpless.

  Two of them came striding up, sloshing through the mud, terrifying visages, taller than any human, clad in great dark cloaks, impossible split faces thrust forward, glaring hatred and radiating power. One of them shrieked at us, revealing a black maw full of needle sharp teeth. I collapsed, a twitching mass of neurons, totally helpless, whimpering in the mud.

  When they were gone I slowly recovered, and looked to the smoky horizon. That was where we had to go. I knew it was the O's that had told me, and I knew we had to go. I shakily got up. The others were doing the same. It was still raining, a miserable, fitful drizzle.

  "All right, let's go," I said. "Keep the goodies hidden." We moved out. The gravity was horrible. I hated it. I could see individual O's here and there, accompanying our marching columns. We had to go to some place that was over the horizon. I could feel it, calling for us. It was very, very urgent that we get there quickly. We wouldn't be able to stop, or even slow down.

  We sloshed through the muddy fields briskly. From time to time little shivers of psypower would flow over us briefly, from the O's, and we would shudder and walk faster. I wondered why the O's were walking too—surely they had transportation.

  As we continued our march, I tried to learn as much as I could. We had no idea where we were. It was evidently daytime on this world, for night would have been darker, but it was pretty dark for daytime. The sky was a continuous mass of heavy dark rainclouds, and a rising breeze was blowing an acid rain right into my face, burning my eyes. There was no sign of a sun, although there must have been one out there somewhere. It was cold, and seemed to be getting colder.

  For as far as I could see, there was only a bleak wilderness of grey, gritty soil, clinging mud, and rocks. There was no sign of vegetation. Not a shrub, not a blade of grass. Only an elemental, blasted wasteland, soaking up an eternal rain.

  A boom of thunder rolled overhead, and it began to rain harder. We continued walking, obsessed with our mysterious destination. We were as well-organized as possible. I had ordered a couple of heavies to serve as bodyguard for our medic. I viewed her as our most important asset for now. She didn't have any gloves, so I gave her mine. Our one wounded was having no trouble walking, so we were set so far.

  "Thinker! Whit! You all right?" I looked off to one side. A gust of rain hit me in the face.
It was Dragon, striding towards me from an indistinct column of Legion stragglers.

  "Dragon! You made it! What happened?" I seized him by the shoulders. It was great to see him. His face was a welt of purple bruises, but he appeared as strong and vigorous as ever. Whit rushed up and embraced him.

  "We fought like hell, Thinker," Dragon said over Whit's head. "Nobody can say the Strike Force didn't do its best. We put out so much vac we blew out the corridor walls, but those damned fireballs did us in. Whatever it was, it was powerful stuff. It shorted out our A-suits, and shorted us out as well. When we came back, they had stripped our A-suits off, and the O's were there. Then it was into the tubes."

  "What about the ship?" We were continuing to slog towards that awful horizon. We didn't dare stop.

  "I don't know. It was a mess, but it was still there when they put us in the tubes."

  "How about the rest of Beta?"

  "I haven't seen anybody."

  "What about Redhawk?" Whit asked hopefully.

  "Sorry—no."

  "Oh, I hope he's all right."

  "Me too." Dragon put one arm around Whit's shoulder protectively and we continued marching forward, and Dragon's people joined ours. I guess it said a lot about our little band of intrepid, inter-universe explorers. The situation was hopeless, but we weren't giving up.

  The horizon was shrouded in dark blue sheets of rain under a stormy black sky. We kept marching. It was impossible to stop. The O's had psyched us good. I was totally determined to keep going, as fast as possible. I knew the O's had psyched me, but that didn't matter.

  Several sharp explosions drew our attention off to our left. Two tall O's were herding along a large group of shadowy creatures unlike anything I had ever before seen. A bolt of light burst in their midst and they hurried the pace. Apparently psyching did not work on them. They had large, strong legs, massive, swollen heads, thin wiry forearms, and small wrinkled bodies. Were these animals, or some higher life form? Whatever they were, they appeared to be heading for the same destination we were.