Soldier of the Legion (32 page)

I know you’re a psycher, Tara, I know you can read my thoughts. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you got in so deep. Did you ever dream you would live this long? Did you ever expect to rise this high? I understand—the longer you are in, the more valuable you become—to both sides.

I knew we were in very deep waters. She must be risking her life, just talking with me. “What do you want from me, Cintana Tamaling?” I almost whispered it. I didn’t know what I was getting into when I joined the Legion and I was certain that Tara never expected to last this long without being discovered. I sensed a great weariness behind those cold, hard eyes. And suddenly I wanted to seize her, to tear her away from her nightmare and spirit her off to some Legion world where she could live a quiet life. I resisted the impulse. What would I know of a quiet life? Tara was in it a lot deeper than I, and there was nothing at all I could do to help her. She held up a minicard, looking right into my eyes, and slid it wordlessly over the surface of the desk to me. I picked it up.

“A memento,” she said, “of the PS Maiden. Please understand—we view this as a rare opportunity to show the Legion that we’re not monsters. Here in the System, Voluntary Servitude is encouraged and appreciated—it’s a civic duty. We hope the visit was enjoyable. Perhaps it had best leave now—before our other visitors discover we have a Legion guest! Give our best wishes to the Legion. Tell them all are welcome.”

Tara, I know you are trapped here and you will stay as long as you can. You know how I feel about you. I want you to remember one thing. The Legion doesn’t forget its own. When the time comes, the Legion will find you, we will kill these subhuman slavers and you can go home!

Another sad smile—almost like a saint. Those smoky eyes met mine and she nodded, ever so slightly. I saw a lot in those eyes—grief, pain, anger, and icy self-control. It was clear she could say nothing—and neither could I. It only remained to bid farewell.

“Goodbye…Cinta.” I made the sign of the Legion, tracing it in the air. Her lovely face shone with love, and fate, and tragedy. I would never forget it.

Chapter 17:
The Space Between the Stars

A starport, they say? On Andrion 3! How could we have missed it? Let me see the location!” I could tell Lowdrop was unhappy. Cubes had just sent the data from the
Spawn
, and I had received it on Val’s starlink and passed it to him. Now we were in Lowdrop’s cube. I popped it into the link again and called up the data. The screen revealed a great volcano, a jagged glittering cone spewing forth a wide river of bubbling lava pooling into a slow-moving lake of molten rock.

“What the devil is that?” Lowdrop asked quietly.

Val answered. “Lava, Sir. A lava lake.
That’s
the starport! The Indigo Frost data from the Galleon zeroed this site. That’s the data that agent Indigo Frost passed to Thinker. It contained the navlog for the SS Galleon, one of the ships that had hardlaunched from the Systie Base on Andrion 2. A starport, sir. Under the lava. Hidden!”

Nobody told me anything, but I realized that Indigo Frost was their asset, Tara. I swallowed hard. So this is what Tara had risked her cover to give me.

Val continued, “It’s a shield volcano, sir. The lava is low viscosity, free flowing. It flows over the crater edge and into this basin to form the lake, then continues down the slope here. And the port is in the lake! This is a major, covert, strategic installation! Larger than the unitium port on Andrion 2. And the earlier 24 Beta info from the Coldmark Port officer—the ships list—means that they’ve been doing this for a hundred years!” Val was excited; his eyes gleamed.

Lowdrop studied the images for some time, then spoke. “Fine! You’re saying there’s a starport under the lava. How could they do that? What does Command say?”

“They don’t know how the Systies did it.”

“This is lunacy! How could they do it? Could the Legion even do this?”

“It’s very doubtful. The text of the report says it’s crazy. It would be very difficult. Maybe impossible. It would be prohibitively expensive, even if the Legion could. The Systies’re gambling that the lava will continue to flow as it’s been doing. If it slows, and solidifies, they’ll be in big trouble.”

“Deadman’s Death! Two starports! Why would they need two starports? What is on Andrion 3? Has Cubes sent this to Starcom? To ConFree? To Fleetcom?”

“Yes, Sir. They sent all the data. Indigo Frost’s, and the ship’s list from the Systie.”

“Damn!” Neither officer was happy. They knew a huge, critical piece of the puzzle was still missing. They probably knew more than I did, but I sure didn’t understand about the base on Andrion 3. I knew from experience that things that were not understandable could be extremely dangerous. And I believed that the Legion would attack the base as soon as possible, no matter what. It was terrifying that the System appeared capable of doing something that the Legion could not. This type of situation could start another interstellar war. I hoped that Fleetcom or Starcom would have an explanation for the base. Otherwise we would have to risk the entire expeditionary force, taking on the unknown.

I hated the unknown. I viewed it as the worst of all enemies.

###

“The unprovoked, naked aggression of bandit Legion forces against a peaceful civilian USICOM settlement in the Neutral Zone is a cause of grave concern to the inhabitants of all peace-loving worlds in the galaxy. By planning and carrying out this cowardly and brutal atrocity against unarmed civilians...” The large, formidable Systie female trembled with righteous indignation. A squat little Orman male whispered into her ear and shifted papers around nervously. Two young and upright USICOM diplomats, Outworlders, clothed in USICOM’s powder blue, gazed at her approvingly. They were a matched couple, male and female, both with completely shaven heads. The shaven heads expressed their opposition to Outworlder aggression, their solidarity with the Mocain, and their servitude to the System. As a professional diplomat and an Outworlder, the male would have been voluntarily neutered—castrated—upon entry into the service.

Nearby a muscular, bald Mocain officer gazed into space, evidently bored by the proceedings. A Mocain female with short, military-cut hair sat next to him, ignoring another Orman eagerly proffering some advice. The giant from Picos had reappeared, as had the Orman psycher. She appeared excruciatingly bored this time, tracing invisible patterns on the table with her lightpen. I watched the show from a Legion monitor that covered our side. They wouldn’t let me sit in this time because of my mission to see Tara. The speaker droned on. My eyes were starting to glaze over already.

“What’s this static about the Neutral Zone?” Scrapper leaned over to whisper to Boudicca. Scrapper was an attractive girl with a thick mop of tawny hair streaked with blonde. She had pale grey eyes, a face full of freckles, and heavy breasts.

“It’s a lie. The Andrion system is in ConFree vac,” Boudicca whispered back. “They’re doing this for their own audience.” No doubt Boudicca was a favorite of the Systie propagandists. By now her image was terrifying Systie children every night: Be good, children, or the Legion will get you! Beware, or Gammagirl will eat you alive!

Rumor was, the Legion did not care. The Terrorism & Public Relations boys had decided Boudicca was good for the image.

“The System is determined to fulfill its treaty obligations to enforce the peace in the Neutral Zone, even in the face of Confederation intransigence and hostility,” the Systie female continued. “The USICOM settlement on
Andrion 2
...”

Scrapper leaned close to Boudicca again and whispered, “A USICOM settlement? On A ConFree world? Do they actually believe all this?”

“It’s all lies,” Boudicca responded coldly. “What did you expect? The entire System is one big lie.”

The Systie continued, her voice rising. “We have been authorized to state on behalf of USICOM and STRATCOM that Andrion 2 is considered vital to the economic well-being of this entire Sector, and that the Legion seizure of Andrion 2 amounts to an act of economic warfare against both USICOM and the United System Alliance. We demand...”

“If she doesn’t shut up, I’m going to puke,” Scrapper whispered to Boudicca. Nobody on the Legion side appeared to be paying much attention to the speaker. I wondered when all the nonsense would end. I hadn’t joined the Legion to watch negotiations with a gang of ugly Systies. I hated this. I liked things simple.

Gravelight set down her mug of ice water carefully, her eyes closed. The Systie female droned on. Gravelight reached one hand over and clutched Val’s s arm. Her eyes were still closed, but her face shone. Even from the monitor, I could tell Gravelight had something important. A faint, angelic smile touched her lips. “Yesss...,” she said. We used sound suppressors so not even the most sophisticated listening devices could pick up her words. Unfortunately, they might be able to read lips.

She trembled visibly. “We must leave. Now!”

“What is it?” Val asked.

Gravelight opened her eyes, dreamily. She stood and shakily started for the door.

We regrouped in the assault craft. Gravelight sipped a cup of ice water and told us what she had. “It’s been with me for a day, just on the edge. I knew it was there, but I wasn’t quite able to focus on it. But I have it now. It was one of the Systie visitors, yesterday morning. You remember there was a little group of VIP’s that slithered in for a few marks, spoke with the chief rep, and then slithered out.”

“Yes, I remember. Mocains, Ormans and a few Coldmarkers.”

“It was one of the Ormans, sloppy security, I suppose. I’d bet he was not supposed to be here. But probably so high-ranking that nobody dared challenge him.”

“What did you get?”

No one breathed.

Gravelight closed her eyes again, to recapture it. “A ship…an assault craft, landing on Coldmark. A cold, grim female…a fighter, a Mocain, contemptuous of Ormans. Fear and hate from the Orman. High security, Systie commandos with SGs. And a captive angel…a golden angel. Fear from the Orman. Deadman’s holy death, it’s Valkyrie. There is only a flash, just a flash. But it’s her! It’s our angel, Val. Our angel! She doesn’t belong on Coldmark, in the mud. She belongs with us, in the space between the stars.”

It occurred to me that we were lucky Boudicca wasn’t with us right now. We’d never have been able to restrain her long enough to let Gravelight finish.

Val almost gushed, “Bless you, Gravelight—you’ve done it! What else? What else?”

“Yes…there’s more. Her name…the Mocain girl’s name…Millina, that’s it, Millina, she’s evil. And she knows!”

“Knows what?”

“Everything! She knows about the operation on Andrion 2. That’s what the Orman thought. We’ve got to find her!”

“Where is she?”

“Good question.” Gravelight put down her cup. “Somewhere on Coldmark, I guess. I have no idea. Try looking into an Orman sometime…it’s like a snake pit.”

Val took Gravelight’s hand and squeezed it. Gravelight returned the squeeze, and they sat there, hand in hand. It sure looked like there was something developing between Gravelight and Val, but I knew psychers didn’t mix with deadheads.

“Bless you, Eighty-eight. Bless you,” Val said.

“I’m glad I was able to help,” she replied.

Chapter 18:
Worshipping Red Gods

“Alert! Beta to the aircar! Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!” The shriek of the red alert caught me in the shower in the assault craft, downside in Coldmark Port. I almost knocked myself cold bouncing against a wall on the way to the assault craft’s door. I snatched up undies, litepants and boots on the run, danced into my pants, and seized someone’s coldcoat from the ready room.

As the door to the assault craft snapped open, we ran out and our aircar approached us, hovering in icy air under a starry sky. The horizon glowed a red dawn. The car’s door hissed open and we hurtled in heads over heels like a squad of acrobats. Redhawk laughed hysterically.

“Count!” Snow Leopard shouted, his hair wild, face flushed, pink eyes burning.

“...Warhound, Dragon, Priestess—all here! Go!” Coolhand responded, and the assault doors slammed shut and we blasted off into the sky, a power climb. A wild tangle of equipment and people slid down the aisle to the rear.

“Ah! Get off me.” I had fallen on top of someone.

“They told me this was a ‘come as you are’ affair,” Coolhand said. He wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“It’s pretty cold out there. You’d better find a shirt,” I said, struggled to pull on my coldcoat.

“What’s the sit?” Coolhand asked.

“All right, this is it,” Snow Leopard said. He unwrapped a crumpled print, then turned suddenly on the pilot. “Do you have the cords?”

“Big ten! We’re ahead of Gamma!”

“Good! All right. Wait!” His head snapped up again. “E’s and comtops! Now!”

Psycho tore open the storage bins and began tossing out E’s and comtops. We grabbed them eagerly. I was working on my boots.

“Take a look! It’s got to be Valkyrie!” Snow Leopard held up the printout and we crowded around to see it. It was a recon shot from directly overhead. It showed what appeared to be the tiled roof of a large temple or palace. The roof glistened in the first rays of the dawn. A blue tile roof, draped with long strips of red cloth fluttering in the morning breeze. The strips were arranged in a peculiar pattern—a Legion cross!

A blood red Legion cross, draped across those blue tiles on the top of the temple. Deadman’s doom! That was Valkyrie all right! No doubt about that at all! A rush of hope shot through my arteries. I had my boots on now. I zipped up the coldcoat and checked my E. We’re on the way, Valkyrie! We’re on the way!

“Flash—Beta, Gamma, in the drop.”

“Get those comtops on! Tac mode! Now!” We snapped them over our heads and everything started to come together. Snow Leopard was still talking.

“All right, there’s the map. It’s a monastery complex. She’s in there someplace. Probably not in the building with the cross, it seems to be open, probably a temple. We’re in first, then Gamma...”