March of the Legion (16 page)

"Don't look in," Merlin warned. "Don't. It was a sphere. It came in behind him. He had just flamed a snake that had started to wrap itself around one of the Systies. I fired biodee, but it was too late. Too late."

Not Warhound, I thought. Not Warhound. Warhound never asked anything of anyone. He just wanted a home, that's all, and we were his home. He was faithful and dependable. A good soldier, I thought—a good soldier. There was a roaring in my ears and the world was spinning around. A burning pain enveloped my chest. It felt as if I was on fire. I reached out my good hand for Warhound, my friend, and fell into the dark.

###

"He's conscious," Priestess whispered in my ears, and the pain was gone. "Can you get up, Thinker?" I tried. I got up. Flames rolled in the sky. Agonizing pain. I could not move my left arm.

"We're set, Thinker. The aircar's here. I've got to help the others." A dark aircar hovered before us in a whirling cyclone of smoke and dirt. Priestess was gone. I checked my E—still there.

"Board! Bring our dead—we all come back! Board, board! And bring that O!" Coolhand was not going to leave anyone behind. We were all going back together, and we were even bringing the O. It would be an incredible prize for the Legion. The lab rats would be ecstatic, and the ultimate result would be more dead O's.

Coolhand and Merlin hauled Snow Leopard toward the aircar on a camfax cloak and Priestess was with them, leaning over to check on him. It was an unreal picture on my faceplate, glowing green A-suits moving through the smoking dark. It started to rain. And three Legion A-suits were lying side by side nearby, light rain dancing off the twisted metal. A strange holy glow hovered all around them. A shadowy group of figures dragged what was left of the O out of the burning ruins in which it had died. The O was charred, just as Merlin had promised, and as Psycho and Dragon pulled, its limbs broke apart in a shower of ash and sparks.

"Its squad leader has done it, number Two—one of its units saved our life!" The Systie soldier was just as shaken as we were.

"He lost his life doing it, Systie," Coolhand replied. "His number was Beta Six. Remember it!"

The aircar hovered, haloed by rain. The assault door popped open. A Systie in an A-suit stood in the door with an SG. He fired, and I watched in horror as the xmax exploded white-hot right on Coolhand's chestplate, glittering streaks of phospho shrapnel ricocheting off his armor, more xmax, full auto, multiple explosions. Priestess was blown aside like a rag doll, flames spitting off her A-suit, and Coolhand fell, his arms outstretched, and the Systie was out the door jumping to the ground, still firing. Another Systie stood in the door, his SG at his shoulder, the barrel coming down. It was happening in microfracs but I could see every speck of dirt on the Systie's A-suit and it was unrolling in extreme slow motion like a horrible nightmare. My E was up and my finger tightened on the trigger. A Systie A-suit to my left—it was Millina, the Mocain. She reached down, it seemed to take forever, to seize Coolhand's E, her armored fingers wrapping around the stock. I pulled my E around to blast her, traitorous bitch! She had the E now and in the far corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of a Legion A-suit, Valkyrie, bringing her E up to her shoulder, aiming right at the Systie bitch. My E was on xmax and just as the laser confirmed the target, Millina fired and the first Systie staggered, his faceplate exploding as Millina walked the xmax down his chest. I didn't even try to understand it, but I snapped my E back to the aircar's assault door and fired.

###

Someone screamed right into my ears, shrieking in agony. Then the deceptors drowned it all out and a spattering buzz filled my helmet. Lightning, close overhead.

I crawled in the mud, burrowing like a worm, and lasers snapped mils above my head. The earth shook again and the air crackled—Psycho's chainlink, a magnificent symphony of death, full auto, a flickering in the sky and then a rolling flash, lightning, and the world split open as the tacstars hit. Debris spattered all around me. A dark aircar slowly passed overhead, right over me, and it was burning, spitting sparks, and as I watched, horrified, a barrage of tacstars erupted on the car, one two three four five six, flash flash flash flash flash flash, perfect shooting. The aircar erupted, six micronukes, a multiple crack, the end of the world, white-hot streaks lighting up the sky, and an A-suited figure fell in fantastic slow motion down from the car, flaming like a meteor. The aircar tumbled wildly, falling apart, flaming chunks of metal raining down to the ground. Then a stunning explosion and the sky lit up and the earth shook.

"…least twelve." It was all I could hear—the sky was full of deceptors. I could not move my left arm but my right was still good and I had my E.

Sweety was relaying data to me, and her I could hear. "Target ahead, one Systie, on the ground. Fading in and out, keep crawling, Thinker!"

I was shaking with horror and hatred. My world was ending, the only world I had ever loved, and the Systies had done it, and a Systie squad was all around me, and they were all going to die. If Beta was finished, I did not want to live. There was one Systie right up ahead, and I was going to kill him.

Auto x rattled all around me. I had glimpses of the Systie in the tacsit, a faint green glow, drowned in static. Laser, flickering in the dark—he was firing laser. I paused behind a chunk of masonry, my head roaring, pain overwhelming me. "Sweety…xmax. Give me the target."

I balanced the E against the rubble and pressed my faceplate against the sights. Smoke drifted past. Someone screamed. Priestess was out there somewhere, lying in the mud, fate unknown. Deceptors crackled close overhead and a deafening explosion split the sky to my left, showering me with shrapnel, hits pinging off my A-suit. The scope was full of glittering junk. More lasers, up ahead—there! I fired, and xmax erupted up ahead, white-hot flashes, phospho streamers.

"Hit," Sweety informed me. "Good hit, Thinker." I rolled away from the site and began crawling into flame and smoke. A building collapsed just to my right, a rising cloud of smoke and ash.

"I'm hit! Oh God, God, I'm hit! Medic! Medic!" A horrible, bloodcurdling scream followed. I thought it was Sassin, but I was not sure. I only knew that there was no medic, any more.

"Soldiers of the Legion!" The message crackled in my ears. "You are doomed! Surrender immediately and we will assist your wounded and grant you official PW status. We repeat, surrender immediately and save yourselves and your comrades! You are completely surrounded and further resistance is pointless!"

"Give me a zero, Sweety…" Soaked in sweat and blood, I kicked myself over onto my back to free my E. My left arm was completely useless. A burst of auto x, laser slicing overhead.

"That target just went off-scope, Thinker," my Persist informed me. "Someone made a good hit."

"Sweety…" the pain was so bad I was ready to pass out. "Give me a mag, then find Priestess. Now!"

Worming through black mud on my back, gasping, burning, raindrops burst on my faceplate like shrapnel as a wild smoky sky flamed overhead. The deceptors whirled all around me, but Sweety still had Priestess on scope.

"You can't get to her, Thinker," Sweety informed me calmly. "The Systies have that site well zeroed. You will die if you try."

"Shut down, Sweety!"

"Beta, Beta…any Beta, answer!" Roaring with static, but I knew the voice. Dragon!

"Eight, Three!" I shouted. "I'm going to help Nine and Two and One. Cover me!"

A tremendous roar of static. Someone was saying something. It did not matter. No, not at all. I rolled over onto my chest. Green hell, swirling all around me. There, up ahead, Sweety had them zeroed. Lumps of clay—black clay, flickering in the laser. Lumps of clay, my God, it's all we are! They pulsed on my faceplate, B2, B9, B1.

"…don't do it!" Advice for the dead.

I waved my E into the dark and fired full auto xmax. I crawled, a worm in hell, brainless, blind and deaf and dumb. The earth shook, the air crackled and burned, the sky lit up—chainlink tacstars! Micronukes exploded white-hot right in my face, rising into the sky, glittering, golden, magnificent. I scrambled to my feet and ran right into it and the shock wave knocked me flat. I gasped and reached out my good arm. B2, B2, B2 flashed on my faceplate. I had reached Coolhand. A smoking A-suit, a pile of metal junk in the mud.

The chainlink spoke again, and I cringed. Someone gurgled in my ears. Was Coolhand alive? I caught a glimpse of his face behind red plex—still and cold, eyes open, covered with blood. His mouth opened—a silent scream.

Excruciating pain, glittering white-hot stars—a massive crack hurled me bodily into the gates of Hell. I was dead, on my back, burning. My ears rang—I was hit, again. My hearing was gone. It was strangely calm. I saw Priestess, in the mud. Smoke, curling from glowing cenite. I crawled to her. My E was gone. I reached out and touched her hand. I had it now—hand in hand, we would go out together. I was so tired I could not speak. A wave of exhaustion swept over me. The lights were gently going out.

###

The next thing I knew I was floating overhead, looking directly down at my body. It was such an astounding sight that I was stunned and awestruck. I could see everything in excruciating detail and in total silence. I was lying on my chestplate down below in a sticky sea of mud, and my A-suit was riddled with hits—the armor on my left arm was smoking and glowing. My right hand was linked with Priestess's and she was on her back—her chestplate was twisted and punctured, white-hot, splattered with bubbling blood. Coolhand sprawled nearby, his A-suit riddled with hits. I could see every tiny speck of dirt, every splash of mud, every evil smoking scar on our armor. It was raining, and every raindrop that hit our cenite burst into steam. I couldn't quite understand how I could be down there while observing myself from overhead, but then it slowly dawned on me. I was hovering at the doorway to death's cold road, and I was only a soul, floating on the wind, balanced precariously between one dimension and the next. That clay down there—that had been me!

It was probably only a split instant of time that I was out of my body but in that brief frac I saw everything. It was truly astounding—it was almost like being a God. One glance and I saw it all, the entire battlefield winking and flashing with xmax and laser, an insane tacstar sky rolling overhead with nuclear clouds burning and throbbing like Armageddon, spitting phospho debris hissing down to explode in geysers of black mud. And then I heard it, a horrific rumble, the Thunder of the Gods.

I saw Psycho running like a rat, splashing through mud on hands and knees and feet, the chainlink dangling, streaking through smoking flaming buildings, scrambling and crawling through the rubble. Lasers and xmax followed him, and the buildings shuddered and came down around him as he ran. The sky was getting darker. It was raining, fat hot drops splattering in the mud. Psycho found an opening in a collapsed wall and snaked forward on his belly, the chainlink nosing slowly out ahead of him. Rain, hissing on hot metal. He was a tiny figure on my field of dreams, but I could even see the blood on his lips.

"Give me a target, you bitch. Give me just one target!" He whispered it. I heard every word. The sky was rotten with deceptors, and the tacmap was trash. But they were close—he'd spot them soon. Green trash, flickering on his faceplate. Three Legion A-suits, down and out—that was me! Xmax, exploding off to his left. They had left him behind—perfect!

"Give me that…"

"Target, Psycho! Fire!" The tacmod illuminated what it had seen in a flash, the source of the firing—a faint green blob, hidden in a collapsed building.

"This is for Warhound." Psycho fired full auto tacstar, a rasping screech. He scrambled away immediately, cursing, back the way he had come, a rat on the run.

Less than a heartbeat—that's probably how long my soul was hovering there, but I could see everybody, I could hear them and feel them—all of Beta, and all at once. We were one, you see. It isn't surprising. I saw Valkyrie watch Five's building detonate a block away, a series of white phospho flashes and suddenly the nukes rose into the sky and the earth shook. She scrambled to her feet and ran through the shattered building where she had been hiding, up the fiery staircase to the second floor. She lay there for a moment quaking. No response. The entire building was burning. Most of the outside walls were gone, but the basic structure was intact. Valkyrie crawled through burning desks and chairs and d-screens spitting sparks. She slithered to the edge of the building and found a good position by a riddled masonry column. She slid her E ahead of her and guided the stock into her shoulder.

"Deadman, give me a kill," she prayed. "Show me a Systie." The tacstars burnt on her faceplate, and she had a great view—almost as good as mine. All of the buildings around her had been hit. Groundcars burnt in the streets. It was raining, a black sky lit up by flashes of xmax and laser and deceptors and the lovely flaming flowers of nuclear hits, rising to the sky, the flowers of the Legion. Deadman, they were beautiful!

"Deadman, you bastard, give me a target, for Gamma!" She was crying and her flesh was ice cold.

"Beta, Beta…" the rest was lost in static.

"Eight, Five…" a long roar of static. "…move, but I can't…" hopeless static. No, there's no sense in trying for commo, Valkyrie, I thought. It's hopeless. Just kill Systies, and die. That's the mission, now. Kill, and die.

"Target!" her tacmod cried out, "Marked!" There! A Systie, sprinting through an alley from one building to another, now hidden behind a massive pile of rubble. No matter.

"Auto xmax airburst," she instructed the tacmod, "right over his head." She touched the trigger gently, lovingly. A long burst of auto x exploded right over the rubble. Then she was off, running frantically back through the gutted office, hurling herself face-first down the stairs, crashing down to the ground floor as the building exploded above her with a tremendous boom. She hit the ground hard, running, gasping, sweating, moaning—running for her life. And the xmax followed her as she ran.