Prophet of ConFree (The Prophet of ConFree) (19 page)

"You are all headed for the Gulf as soon as your equipment can be loaded. See your supers for details of your assignments. The people of ConFree thank you for your service. You are now going to war, and we have provided you with the best training available. Remember all you have learned here. Stay alert, look out for your comrades and never despair, never give up. The goal is victory, for the peoples of ConFree, for the next generation, for your descendants. We wish you Godspeed, and may Deadman bless you all." And he traced a Legion cross over us all.

I could almost see it burning there in the air.

"Show him in," the Director-General of ConFree replied. She slowly rose from her airchair and came out from behind the desk. Her office was spacious but rather austere. One wall consisted of a massive floor-to-ceiling plex window, flooding the office with weak morning sunlight and revealing an impressive view of Quaba City with the starport on the horizon. The opposite wall was lined with d-screens and commo equipment. The room was full of conference tables and airchairs. The Director was slim and lovely, clad in Legion black, silky ruddy-brown hair touching her shoulders. She had slightly slanted Assidic eyes and golden-brown skin. She looked more like a fashion model than the legally appointed leader of the most successful stellar confederation in galactic history.

The Commanding General of the ConFree Legion entered, clad in the Legion's formal black uniform. He was an Outworlder and gave an impression of youthful strength and vigor, tall and wiry, black hair and slightly olive skin, flashing dark deep-set eyes over a firm, determined mouth and rock-hard jaw. Colorful tattoos showed on his neck and full-color death faces looked out from his knuckles.

The Director stopped before him. "Dragon," she said.

Dragon stopped, facing her, and a crooked smile lit up his face. "Come here," he said. She stepped forward and embraced him. They stood there for some time, lost in the past. Then the Director stepped back slightly.

"Where've you been?" she asked.

"In the Gulf," he said. "Quite busy. How are you?"

"I'm fine. Fine."

"You're lying."

"All right, I'm not fine. But it's good to see you again, Dragon."

"Likewise, Tara. How's your kid? Willard?"

"He's a Legion officer now. He's in the Gulf, too."

"Well, anybody who's anybody is in the Gulf, Tara. I thought you were going to ensure he never joined the Legion."

"Have a seat, Dragon. There've been some…serious developments." She showed him to a sofa by the window, next to a table with several datascreens.

"Are there any other kind of developments, besides serious? I can't recall any," Dragon declared.

Tara smiled. "You're right there. But this is more serious than most. I'm hoping we have some time to respond correctly."

"Well, go ahead."

Tara activated one of the holo d-screens, and it lit up as the picture window immediately dimmed. The screen projected a holo image of a peculiar, saucer-shaped spacecraft, shimmering in faint bands of agate-like color – glowing metallic grey, black, green, blue and orange. The craft was shuddering slightly – like a leaf in the wind.

"I see," Dragon said. "And where was this seen?"

"Out in Omni vac. Way the hell out there. Hundreds of sightings. Some landings. No attacks. It seems to be recon."'

"That's how it starts."

"Right."

"In Omni vac. Aren't they…"

"In genetic hibernation. Right, the O's are minding their own business, after retreating from human sectors in a genetic migration. You remember that."

"I was there
.
And how did you get this pix?"

"I've got hundreds of them. The O's sent them."

"They sent them to ConFree?"

"That's right. We can communicate with them now. And they can communicate with us. It's not easy – but it can be done. Now."

"Any of these ships show up in the Inners or the Gassies or the Gulf or the Outvac?"

"Not yet."

"Well, thank God for that," Dragon said.

"We've got a big problem, Dragon."

"How long have these – things – been reconning the O's?"

"I don't know. It appears that it's been going on for a few years. The O's just informed us."

"And why did they do that?"

"I don't know."

"Bastards. What's the body count of humans killed by the O's?"

"You know that perfectly well, Dragon. Over two billion."

"And now they want our help?"

"They haven't asked. They just sent us the pix, along with some stats on the sightings."

"Damn it. All right, send me everything you've got on this."

"We're going to have to prepare for worst case."

"Yes. We sure don't need this."

"No. But when they show up, we've got to be ready."

"My skin crawls just thinking about them," Dragon said.

"When you're ready to discuss this in depth, call me. We need ideas. Potential solutions."

"Tenners. I'm on it. I'll let you know."

"God bless you, Dragon."

"You too." And he got up and left.

Δ

Piracy patrol was not exactly what I was expecting. We were on the Confederate Ship
Wasp
, one of four cruisers from the battlestar CS
Andrion Deep
. A Fleetcom expeditionary battlestar is designed to impose vac superiority and effective operational control over an entire star sector. A star cruiser is designed to impose vac superiority and effective operational control over an entire star system and all planets. In our case, "effective operational control" meant cleansing whatever sector we were in of pirates. This was done by cruising through the Gulf while launching hundreds of star probes that would filter through all star traffic looking for unauthorized craft. When they spotted something, we would go into stardrive and react. Sometimes it would not be slavers but sometimes it would.

The
Wasp
was luxurious duty to us after Basic and Planet Hell. Those Fleetcom guys really had it aced. Three meals a day, snacks and dox whenever you wanted it, unbelievably comfortable bunks, lounges, recreational and educational material, whatever you wanted. Of course, Doggie kept us busy with calisthenics, working out in the gym, blasting away on the firing range, and endless hours in the holo chambers, working on breaching entry hatches, forcible entry, cleansing corridors, imposing control over a hostile crew, keeping slaves and hostages alive through the battle and, finally, exploiting any surviving slavers for hot information.

We seldom saw the
Andrion Deep
. The
Wasp
and the other three cruisers were all on piracy patrol and widely separated in the Gulf. I never knew where we were – I had no particular need to know. But I knew we were somewhere in the Gulf, either within the claimed vac of one of the major slave states, or out in the deep, wild reaches of the uncontrolled Gulf frontier. Either way, we were subject to attack from anyone else who was out there and stupid enough to try to attack a Fleetcom cruiser.

There were 250 of us Legion troopers on the
Wasp
, five squads per CAT – Combat Assault Team – and five CATs in Company 2 of the Ship. This one company was part of the 14
^th
Regiment of the Ninth Legion. The 14
^th
was the Condor Regiment and the Ninth was the Outvac's End. Both were famous historical units that had done great deeds and suffered high casualties for the people of ConFree. Plenty of ghost troopers were watching over us as we carried on their traditions. I wore those colors on my fatigues and I was damned proud of them.

Δ

"Attention unidentified starfreighter! You are in violation of galactic shipping regulations and are to be boarded for inspection of your travel and cargo documentation. Unlock your entry hatches! If you resist boarding, you will be boarded forcibly. Warning! Any attempt to eject any passengers or cargo into the vac will be grounds for summary execution. Attention! If you fail to respond to this message, we will presume you are hostile, and we will board you forcibly and seize control of your ship. Attention unidentified starfreighter! Reply to this message immediately or suffer the consequences!"

One of our probes had spotted the freighter while underway in stardrive. The probe had followed its startrack and penetrated the ship's antimat exhaust, forcing it to exit stardrive. It was a brilliant new technique that our psycho scientists had come up with – and Fleetcom was using it heavily in the piracy patrols.

The ship was now in normal vac, although temporarily disabled. And the
Wasp
was now within easy range of the target. We approached it in two assault tugs, designed to close with an enemy ship and seize it. I was in one with Delta and Squad Comet was in the other. The freighter was huge, a titanic conical freight carrier covered with starline shipping containers. The pirates had evidently seized the ship and captured the crew. It was a huge prize for them, worth billions of credits.

We were all in black armor and blood red faceplates, crowded into the assault portal, poised around the access hatch on one wall, waiting for the word, nine Legion soldiers brimming with adrenalin, bristling with weapons and antennae, twitching with anticipation. Wasps, I thought, just like a swarm of black wasps, closing in on their prey.

"It's going to be a hot entry. They're not answering, the hatches are locked. Stand back, detonation now."

A sharp explosion rocked the portal. Our hatch snapped open. Doggie jumped in, vanishing immediately in a plume of greasy dust and firing. We all followed. I landed on the deck in a blinding cloud of dust that vanished immediately as Honey adjusted the view. Doggie and Saka were in front of me. I fired auto xmin over their heads, just to clear the road. We were in the entry portal, with smoking metal parts littering the deck. We advanced into a wide corridor. Honey ID'd several hostiles in armor further into the ship. Then she registered a whole squad of friendlies in armor – Comet, breaking into the ship on the other side.

"Attention all! This is the ConFree Legion! Stay where you are and do not move! Secure and lock all doors! Attention starjackers! We will kill everyone in armor! Strip off your armor now and put down your weapons! Surrender now and you will not be harmed, but treated in accordance with galactic law. Resist us and die! Repeat, resist and die!"

"Eight hostiles in armor," Honey informed me. They glowed red on the tacmap.

"Deck Five," Doggie said. "All right, let's kill some pirates."

Δ

"All right, Five, prep tacstar," Doggie said. Smiley was poised behind his Manlink, one knee on the deck, the weapon aimed up ahead. The starjackers were not very imaginative. They had allowed themselves to be trapped between Comet and us. All eight of them were holed up ahead, down a corridor, barricaded inside a cargo hold in armor, wielding SG's.

"Last chance, subs!" Doggie said. "Surrender or die! You've got five fracs. Comet, we're doing a tacstar." We weren't expecting them to surrender. They knew damned well the only galactic law in these parts was the ConFree Legion.

Five fracs later Doggie gave the word. "Fire." Smiley fired and a blinding flash and titanic bang and a punishing pressure wave hit me in my armored chest.

"Deadman!" A cloud of sparkling ash filled the corridor.

"Stupid bastards." The tacstar had disintegrated them all, along with a goodly portion of the interior of the ship.

"Some of them have surrendered, Delta," the Comet squad leader announced. "Those that didn't have armor." His squad led in some starjackers they had tracked down in the rest of the ship, considerably the worse for wear, dazed and lost and dirty, hands cuffed behind them.

"Good," Doggie said. "We need them for intel. They're all yours, Comet. Get them into the tug."

"We’ve got the freighter captain here, sir," Scout said. An ageing, white-haired mortal stood beside him, suffering from a few cuts and bruises, bleeding through a rough bandage he had wrapped around one hand.

Doggie snapped open his faceplate. "Captain, your ship is now secure," he said.