March of the Legion

by Marshall S. Thomas

  I had no idea what Tara wanted. What could I possibly do that nobody else could? There was only one way to find out.

  Chapter 14:

  The Trouble with Katag

  A wet cool breeze washed over us, tingling our flesh. It was a clear crisp morning. Mica was a white orb, glittering in a brilliant white sky streaked with wispy silver clouds. We wore Legion coldcoats, stepping carefully in light gravity. It was a magnificent morning, so beautiful it was downright eerie. I had called Tara upon arrival at the port, and she had told us to rent an aircar. Now we were at her villa, past a formidable sliding cenite gate set in a tall stone wall covered with razor vines.

  It was quite a villa, two stories with lots of shaped stone and darkened plex, set in a garden of bright green grass and pale purple flowers and strange willowy trees.

  Priestess hesitated on the walkway before the door, looking up to the sky. A faint shiver ran over her flesh. A few birds flew over, calling out. A sudden anger flashed over me.

  "Forget it!" I hissed. "This is nonsense! It's all crap! None of this is real—so just forget it!"

  "It's so peaceful!" Priestess exclaimed, almost in despair.

  "It's a graveyard!" I said. "Of course it's peaceful. We don't belong here—so just get it out of your mind!"

  Dragon touched the doorbell and chimes sounded, soft notes hanging in the air. The door hissed open. The ape stood there, Tara's man-ape, a huge retarded humanoid dressed in elektra violet, massive arms with big hairy hands. His lips went back to show his teeth. "Wer-kong," he said. He stood aside and motioned for us to enter. Dragon was measuring the beast up as if he was planning to challenge him to a little arm-wrestling.

  The ape led us through the villa to a sun-drenched room overlooking an extra-large swimming pool that glittered like molten gold. Tara sat in a sofa by a low marble table littered with com gear and minicards and d-screens. An E lay on the carpeted floor. Tara looked up and smiled, a vision of languid beauty. She was so lithe and slender; she appeared to be not quite real, a girl from another world, a little bit closer to perfection than our own species.

  "Hello, Wester! Glad you could drop by. Please have a seat. Would anyone like some dox?" She was so casual I started to burn. Did she have any idea how difficult it had been for us to get there?

  We found seats around the table. The room was decorated with strange objects collected from many worlds. The ape disappeared to get the dox. Tara looked us over with a faint smile.

  "This is Priestess," I said. "And Dragon. You may not remember them. But they remember you—well."

  "I remember them both," Tara said quietly. She seemed suddenly very subdued.

  I placed three expended farecards on the table. I tried not to look at her. There were too many memories. I suppose I was still angry. "We've used all your funds," I said. "How can we help you?"

  Tara did not answer immediately. She picked up a datacard, then put it down. Her gaze fluttered around the room. She avoided looking at us. Finally she spoke. "It wasn't easy for me," she said, her eyes focused on the swimming pool, "sending that star tracer. No, it wasn't easy. I'm the sort of person who fights her own battles. I've never needed anyone's help before."

  The ape reappeared with a tray of steaming dox. The aroma hit me as he set the tray down. "Thank you, Gildron," Tara said. She seemed happy with the interruption.

  "Nartsing," Gildron responded. Then he padded away again.

  "Please—help yourselves," Tara urged us. "I hope the trip was all right. This is Mica home brew—hot and sweet. They export it—it's pretty good."

  I tried it. It was indeed very good. It was strange, seeing Tara this nervous. Tara did not shake easily—she was tough as cenite armor.

  "It's funny," she continued. "I've made a lot of sacrifices in my life for the Legion. I've never asked anything, and I've given all I had. Now, for the first time, I need something—for myself. Do you know what they told me? They said no. No, for all my work. They gave me a lot of good reasons—but it was no." Her eyes flickered over us all, and she took a sip of dox. "And then I looked around to see who would help me—anyway. And you know what I found? I had Gildron, and a crew of loyal Cyrillians. They'd help me, if they could—but they couldn't, not in this case. There wasn't anyone else." She put down her cup. "That's when I thought of you, Wester. I wouldn't have called you if I didn't need you."

  I carefully put down my dox. "We're here, Tara. You asked for my help, and you've got it. So what's the problem?"

  "You say the Legion wouldn't help you?" Dragon cut in. It was a troubling concept.

  "No, they wouldn't," Tara confirmed. "Tell me…are you here officially or unofficially?"

  "I'm here as your friend," I said. "Unofficially. And Dragon and Priestess as well. We're on sick leave—officially."

  "And you won't be prepping any reports on this when you return?"

  "No—we won't."

  Tara looked out to the swimming pool again. Her eyes were misting over. She licked her lips once, pale pink tongue. My heart gave me a jolt. I sure didn't need that.

  "You realize…" she said, "that I wouldn't have called you half way across the galaxy if this was an easy matter to resolve."

  "We realize that," I replied.

  Her eyes came back to me. Magical, swirling dark eyes, worlds of mystery, a hot typhoon of rain. A whirlpool, sucking me right in. "What are you prepared to do," she asked, "to help me?"

  I glanced over to Dragon, then to Priestess. "We'll do anything you want," I replied. It was only the truth—we owed her our lives. I picked up my dox and took a sip. Good dox. The preliminaries were over. Now we would find out what this was all about. And how many laws we'd have to break.

  Tara raised her chin, and long silky hair swirled around her shoulders. The fire was back in her eyes. The transformation was visible. Tara was back in command. She reached down and touched a datacard. A vision appeared to one side of our table, a holo of a slim pale girl, life-sized, dressed in elektra violet, shimmering in a field of light. Wispy short blonde hair, watery blue eyes—I recognized her. It was Tara's assistant, the P.S. Maiden's exec.

  "Maralee Whitney," Tara confirmed, "my exec, has been with me several years." Her voice was clear and steady. "It seems more like twenty years, but it's only been about three. Whit has always been something of an idealist—she truly believes that money can buy happiness, and she's devoted her young life to achieving that goal by acquiring as much wealth as she can, as quickly as possible. It's her major weakness. I should probably explain, first, that Whit does not know about the Legion connection—and we have to keep it that way. To her I'm Cintana Tamaling, phenomenally successful slaver and galactic criminal, wanted by every law enforcement agency around for crimes against humanity, but protected by the System itself as a useful source of slaves and funds. Secondly, I should explain that, although our relationship is strictly super-sub, the two of us have been through a lot in those three years." Tara paused, and reached down to touch the datacard again. The holo disappeared in a flash of light. I could see the old Tara coming back, rushing over her like an aura of the past, the mouth setting, the color draining from her face, the eyes burning with cold rage—this was the Tara I remembered. When she spoke she was in complete control. "My reasons are not important. I'm going to help her. I'm going to do everything in my power to help her." Her gaze flashed over to mine. "I'm glad you came, Wester! And your friends—yes, we'll need them. I want my exec back. And you're going to get her back for me!"

  "Where is she?" I asked.

  "She's on Katag," Tara responded. "Katag Two—a System world. Not a very pleasant place, I'm afraid. Very much a Systie outpost. And very much a garrison world. I'll tell you all you need to know about Katag Two. Whit went there, and disappeared. The deal evidently went bad. She was on her own, trying to open up a black infolink in cooperation with some local crims. I had advised her not to go, because we have some real problems with the authorities on Katag. But one successful info
link can set you up for life. She was determined to do it.

  "I never should have let her go—I should have seen it. It was stupid. The authorities have a tremendous financial interest in controlling all infolinks, so it was a dangerous business. We already knew the locals were difficult to deal with on Katag, and it was certain they had us on a watchlist. We had run into trouble there before, you see. That's why I can't go anywhere near the Katag system. That's why I can't handle this myself." Tara's voice was hushed, almost a whisper, her eyes unfocused. It was almost as if she was talking to herself. I leaned forward to catch every word.

  "She knew it was risky, going there. She went by commercial freighter. I set up good docs for her, even though I didn't approve of the trip. She went in alias as a regional inspector for a Systie microtech firm that had an office there. Mitomass—they owed me. It was not hard to arrange. And, although Mitomass was not into infolinks, it would explain any contacts Whit might have with the seedier elements of Katag's business community."

  "How about the genetic ID?" Priestess asked.

  "That was the weak link. She had excellent docs, but if they wanted to do a full genetic ID scan, the genetics on the docs would not match, and her real ID would be revealed. We were hoping it would never come to that. If the story held, there was no reason it should."

  "Sounds like you went to a lot of trouble," Dragon remarked, "for a mission you had not approved."

  Tara paused for a moment, then looked up out the window to the golden haze of the morning. "Yes…I suppose I did. I told her it was stupid, but I did all I could to make it work. It didn't."

  "So what happened?" I asked.

  "She never came back. Entry was all right at the port, and she checked into the hotel. She spent a few days at Mitomass, and did the inspection. Everything seems to have gone all right there. Then she disappeared."

  "Just disappeared?"

  "My Mitomass contact freaked when I told him his inspector had run into trouble. However, I did prevail upon him to make an official inquiry about his missing employee. It would have looked bad had he not done so. It resulted in the recovery of the personal effects she'd left in the hotel—nothing else. The authorities claimed to know nothing."

  "Have you got the effects?"

  "Sure, you can look them over, but there's nothing there to help us. Now, my problem is I've got nobody on the ground there to investigate this matter. It's a real mine-field. Highly illegal activity, big money, dangerous and desperate criminal gangs, a hostile government, and a girl who is wanted by both the Legion and the System for a host of illegal activities."

  "And the Legion won't help you."

  "No. She was engaged in illegal activity, there's a war on—they had plenty of reasons. They won't help."

  "What was the original trouble the two of you had with Katag?"

  Tara smiled. Lord, she had a dazzling smile—sparkling eyes, pale brown face and phospho white teeth. A clock chimed softly on the wall. It was still and peaceful. "The trouble with Katag," Tara said. "Yes, we were young and foolish in those days. We were running slaves—Katag was a source of supply. They had just had a war and the losers were locked up and available. It enabled them to pretty much empty their prisons and make big money as well. Well, the Minister of Law—a nasty little bureaucrat called Fornos Cabra-Marist—decided, at the last moment, that he wanted twice as much as had been earlier agreed. Of course, we should have simply paid. But he was a despicable little bugger who dealt with us as if we were dirty. So I simply informed the governor of the attempt. Got the little rat in a bad sit, I'm sure, because the governor was making plenty on the deal and didn't want trouble. The only problem is that things change from time to time. Cit Fornos Cabra-Marist is the new governor. You have to expect things like that, which is why you should simply shut down and pay. But we were rolling in those days. We were impatient, invincible, and greedy."

  "What do you think happened to Whit?" Priestess asked.

  "On a world like Katag, there's no sense in speculating. Could be the System's got her. If so, they wouldn't make it public. Cabra-Marist will be waiting like a spider for me to show up. Or it could be she's had a disagreement with the crims. That can be fatal. And they tend to get crazy when large amounts of cash are involved. Or—it could be—something as simple as street crime. As in every System world, crime is out of control on Katag."

  "What were the financial arrangements?" I asked.

  "Never concluded," Tara replied. "Whatever happened, the infolink deal never went through. Whit's bank account is still empty. And Whit's infolink contacts—they're on another System world—are still waiting for the down-payment from Katag before going ahead with the link. The trouble is, all contact with the Katag infolink crims has to be on-planet, for obvious security reasons. Gildron!"

  The beast appeared in the doorway, snarling.

  "Gildron, show our guests to their rooms. You will each find extensive information on Katag Two, on Whit, and on the infolink deal, in datacall. You may access these files with the code 'Lost Lamb.' I've got a suggested ops plan in there as well. Please look it over. Now I imagine you'll want to freshen up. Lunch is at noon. Do you have any luggage? Gildron will take it to your rooms."

  ###

  Gildron didn't strain himself carrying our luggage. Soldiers of the Legion travel light. The rooms were incredible—I had never before seen so much space for one person. It wasn't a room; it was a suite, spotless in soft phospho white carpeting, a warm golden haze from the morning glowing through the plex. There was a mini office in an alcove, screens on the walls, a desk studded with comgear linked up to a dozen worlds. The air was cool and clean.

  "Quite a place. Mine's the same. Do you think the Legion pays for this?" Priestess came in silently, looking around the room. She was so slim and lovely I wanted to pull her to me and fall to my knees and cover her body with kisses. But I restrained myself. I got dizzy every time I looked at Priestess. She was a child, with gleaming black hair and warm dark eyes and small, ripe lips. Her beauty glowed right on her skin, and she didn't need any make-up to enhance it.

  "I doubt it," I said. "Tara makes her own way in the world."

  "Slavery—it must be good for her bank account, but bad for her soul."

  "Yes—I'm sure it is. I've never understood that."

  "You never told me you knew her."

  "It was a long time ago," I said, "another time and place."

  "They've got a fully-stocked cooler and a snackmod under the main screen."

  "It doesn't surprise me."

  "And my closet's got a clothing mod—I can order civvies in my own size!"

  "That's Tara."

  "I want you to sleep with me tonight."

  "Well, I'll check my sked."

  "It's not funny. You keep your distance from her! I know we owe her a lot—but there are limits. And you belong to me—remember that!"

  I reached out and touched her hand and gently pulled her to me. She came, reluctantly. Morning rain, the scent of wildflowers, her heart beating against mine. She was all I ever needed from life. Only Beta Nine, and nothing more, forever.

  "Priestess…if I had wanted to play house with her, would I have asked you to accompany me?"

  "Well…no. I guess not."

  "That's right. So let's just get the job done and get back to Beta, where we belong."

  ###

  We had a light lunch on the patio by the pool. It was warming up a little, but the air was still crisp and clear. Dragon had found some swimjox in his closet and was trying out the pool after lunch.

  "Thank you, Gildron," Tara said.

  "Nartsing." Gildron was clearing away the trays. Dragon sat on the edge of the pool, spraying water off his hair just like a dog. Dragon had a hell of a build, and the swimjox didn't hide much. His brown body rippled with hard, wiry muscles, and strange dark-blue tattoos covered his shoulders. Fantastic dragons crawled down his arms, green armored beetles marched over his chest; and indecipherable
symbols and runes covered his ears and hands, hieroglyphs from doomed worlds. Ghostly faces looked up from his knuckles.

  "Where'd you get him?" Tara asked me, gazing hungrily at Dragon. She liked what she saw, I could tell.

  "Where'd you get him?" I responded, motioned to the ape, now disappearing into the villa.

  A shadow passed over Tara's lovely features. "It's a sad story. Too long to tell. He's lost his world. And he's a faithful companion."

  "I guess I could say the same about Dragon."

  "You'll have to get rid of those warnames. Have you had a chance to get into the ops plan?"

  "Yes, it should allow us to move around. You've gone to a lot of trouble, Tara…Cinta."

  "You be careful with ProScan. That crim Biergart is a real snake. He's the contact. You go to him first."

  "I'm more worried about the Systies."

  "Money talks. Just stick to the plan. It should work." Some birds were chirping from a tall tree in the yard. We could see them in the branches, pale blue birds.

  "It's so beautiful here," Priestess said.

  "Yes, it's very quiet," Tara responded. "It's a Legion world; there are no problems here."

  "Idyllic, wouldn't you say?" I asked.

  "You could say that." Tara looked up into the sky. Her pale brown skin was flawless, toasting in the sunlight.

  "Paid for in blood," I said.

  "That's affirmative," Tara said. "A lot of people died here. Yes, we paid the price."

  "We?"

  "The Legion. I mean the Legion."

  "Is this your home?"

  "No, it's just a hide-out. I'll be back in Systie vac as soon as you get my exec back."

  "Back in business?"

  "No, I'm through with all that. I've done enough. They can't make me go back. I'm going to make a new life."

  "In Systie vac?"

  "Yes…in Systie vac."