Soldier of the Legion (4 page)

###

I found our pilot, Redhawk, in
Spawn
’s aircar bay with his lover. A long line of fearsome black birds filled the bay, gleaming with slick, silent and deadly. My blood stirred, just looking at those lovely ladies. I located our own car by the tail number—24B. Coiled like a snake, ready to strike. I ran my fingers over her wet, icy cold skin.

I loved aircars. They could hover like bees with the airblast from fans hidden under the fuselage or hurtle through the sky like a fighter. Fully armored and heavily armed, the assault aircar was a true battlefield superiority weapon. Aircars were equipped to insert a squad into the target area as well as provide tactical air cover and retrieval.

“Don’t touch my girl.” Redhawk stepped out of the shadows under the fuselage. Tangled red hair fell to his shoulders. His pale splotchy face was spattered with slick. His sparse mustache and scraggly beard looked even rattier than usual. Clad in filthy sleeveless coveralls, he clutched an angular tool I couldn’t identify.

“How’s she doin’, Redhawk?” I gave him a big grin. I couldn’t help it. I really liked the guy.

He laughed. “She’s hot and wet. No foreplay required. Give us the word, we lift.” He looked up at the car with fierce adoration, scratching his chin absently. Redhawk was a free spirit. He could work on the aircar for days without sleep or sustenance. At other times, he would collapse in a stupor, seemingly developing laziness as a serious art form. Once in the cockpit, however, his genius came to light.

“Come on in, Thinker.” Redhawk stepped up through the open assault door into the aircar. I joined him, settling back into one of the crash seats. Laughing, he produced two icy cans of dark bitter from a refrigerated equipment rack, and tossed me one. I popped the cap and let the freezing lager sluice down my throat. Bitter was illegal in the aircar bay but Redhawk had never been bound by the rules.

I had to stop thinking about my fate, about Command’s fears and my own. Lost, hopeless and undoubtedly insane, I had been drawn to the Legion, as if sleepwalking. It seemed as though the twin angels of Love and Death haunted me day and night. In my dreams of home, Tara beckoned to me, a symbol of my lost life. She’d laugh at me, and say I was too soft. I wanted only to forget her, but I couldn’t. Death, my other angel, stalked my dreams as well.

“Getting scared?” Redhawk asked. He draped himself over his seat lazily, his coverall zip half open, exposing a sweaty, hairy chest.

“I get braver with every sip of this stuff,” I replied.

“I ran into Valkyrie in Supply,” he said. “She asked about you.”

I hesitated. “Yeah? What did you say?”

“I told her you had some serious second thoughts about the relationship. And I reminded her that I was available and damned good in bed. She told me to...well, never mind what she told me. It wasn’t very ladylike. So I guess she’s still stuck on you.”

Visions of Valkyrie, Gamma Two, came to me, faintly. What kind of dark magic, what kind of evil alchemy, could find love in the Legion? Visions of silky golden hair, and a great hush. We’d slept out under the stars, on Hell. I’d been Gamma Four then—it was before I was transferred to Beta Squad. Once, we’d camped by a cold, black ocean with luminous silver waves and a beach of silver sand, with death waiting in the night. I blessed the Gods when she first came to me, but it got to be lonely after awhile. She was always there, but her thoughts were far away. For all I knew, she could have been a biogen. But I knew she wasn’t—I could understand biogens.

“Thinker, you still with us?” Redhawk slouched in his seat, finishing off his bitter. “Man, you’ve got it bad!”

I smiled. “Yeah. I guess so.” Here, even Hell seemed like the distant past—a previous life.

###

The rumor mill spread the word long before the official announcement: We were about to exit the wormhole and re-enter normal vac. I was lost in a crowd of troopers facing a giant d-screen in one of the rec rooms when I heard a faint whining. Reality languidly stretched in on itself. The pressure that had given us all mild tunnel vision abruptly vanished with a jolt. For a moment, I fought for control of my stomach. Then it was over. The ship shuddered and groaned, and the screen filled with stars. A savage cheer ripped through the ranks.

This was routine for the vacheads but good news for us. We made it! The future was dark, but we were right on course.

Troopers pointed excitedly at the screen amid cries of, “Look at that!” and “It’s beautiful!”

Andrion 2, itself in orbit around Andrion’s yellow dwarf star, grew larger and larger, glowing on the screens. It was truly lovely, truly marvelous, with great luminous green oceans and continents covered with brightly tinted forests. Rugged black mountain ranges spawned cold blue rivers that traced aimless patterns through endless flowerfields. Vast silver deserts of sand dominated cold plateaus. The polar areas gleamed white, and wispy clouds streaked brilliant skies. It reminded me a little of Veltros, and I tried to put the thought away. My heart beat faster. The future would depend entirely upon us.

###

Back in my cube, I collapsed onto my bunk, slid a datapak off the shelf and triggered it. I must have seen it a hundred times, but it still stirred my blood. A thin, silvery line, almost invisible, etched into the dark. It was the long-range image of the Systie antimat track entering this system. No doubt it was very much like the one we had just made on our wormhole exit. It was why we were here, prepped to drop onto this far-off world.

Outvac Sector Command—Starcom—had detected the Systie track quite by accident, in the vicinity of the Andrion System. When a ship exits an artificial wormhole, the negative energy slams the portal shut and the ship leaves a searing antimat trail—an unmistakable footprint on the cosmos—as the ship powers onto vac drive.

Why would the Systies be interested in the far rim of the Outvac? The Andrion System was the only habitable system in the sector, and we could think of no conceivable reason for a System starship to be here. It was, after all, deep in ConFree territory, our territory, and the Systies had seriously breached the treaty by intruding. CI had concluded their target was Andrion 2—what else could it be? There were no other obvious choices. The Legion had reacted immediately. ConFree had had no active colonization plans for Andrion 2, a Phase Four planet. The Systie antimat track changed all that.

Our mission: seize the planet, repel any Systie intruders, establish control, and find out what they were up to.

ConFree and the System were not officially at war, but the Legion and the DefCorps knew better. In this uneasy truce, both sides knew that only the survivors compiled the incident report. Regs were regs, and we took them seriously in the Legion, but when we were in a remote sector and up against the DefCorps troops on the far side of the Outvac, there weren’t any rules. It didn’t matter what the diplomats said later.

“You still lookin’ at that?” Coolhand stood in the open door to my cube. I always left it open to make the tiny cube a bit less claustrophobic.

“Hi, Coolhand, come on in.” Coolhand had earned his name by his relaxed attitude to our dangerous profession.

“They’ve launched the recons.” He pulled the little wall seat open and settled his lanky frame onto it. His knees hit the edge of my bunk.

“Yeah? Are we going to see it?”

“I’m afraid the reserved seats are all taken, Sir. Standing room only.” He laughed easily. My first friend in the Legion, Coolhand was a tall, handsome youth who always seemed to have the answers. As our Two, he served as Snow Leopard’s backup. I admired him, and trusted his judgment.

Star Survey had mapped Andrion 2 decades before, and that’s all we had. That, and the Systie antimat track. Sending another automated probe would only have postponed the problem—so ConFree sent the Legion instead.

The probes brought back a lot of data, but I knew we couldn’t trust the probes. All the biotech in all the sensor systems wouldn’t provide the kind of information that one Legionnaire plodding along in the mud could.

Andrion 2, the second planet of a seven-planet system, orbited a single, hot-yellow prime, similar to Veltros. Only two of the seven planets interested us, the second and the third. Both were in the life zone. Andrion 2’s status had been rated Class A despite its somewhat lighter-than-standard gravity. We knew from the probes that it was inhabited by human stock.

We had only a few, fleeting images of a frail, savage-looking race, apparently dwelling in the deep flower forests like animals. They had not always been savage. A great pre-industrial civilization had once flourished here. There were hundreds of ancient, crumbling cities and fortresses of stone, all deserted, dotting the planet, disappearing in the tightening grip of the forests, or stark and lonely on high plateaus and mountains. This had once been a growing culture, laid low by some unknown disaster. A warning for us. We had many images of strange texts carved in the stone, but no one could read them.

I knew the images of the natives by heart; we all did.

I’d made a solid of two of them frozen in mid-leap. I kept it on a little shelf above the fold-down desk. A young female, dressed in a ragged, filthy tunic of animal scales, fleeing the probe in terror into a tree line, long tangled dark hair streaming out behind her. She wore a gold bracelet on her left arm. Another scale-clad savage, a male with matted brown hair, looked up from a forest clearing, yellow teeth bared, clutching a crude metal-tipped spear.

Coolhand followed my glance to the solid and plucked it off the shelf. “She kind of has your nose, Thinker, she could be your sister. So marriage is out...sorry!” He chuckled. I had a reputation as a lover, because of Valkyrie. “Remember, they’re mortals. This shot was taken long before you were born, so she’s a wrinkled grandmother by now. Maybe even dead.”

Images, at the end of infinity, to tell us what we had to know. A dead civilization and savages in the forests and a Systie antimat track. What possible interest could the System have in this world? The natives are delicately built, I thought, not quite as tall as we are. Clean features, pale brown skin. The male had cold grey eyes; hers were a smoky brown. No records in the history of how they got here. Had they sprung from forgotten, kidnapped slave labor? Someone had brought them here in the dim past, but it was not a unique story. It had taken the Systie intrusion for anyone to take an active interest.

The human stock on Andrion 2 had sprung from the warm, shallow seas of ancient Planet Earth, like all of us. I could trace my ancestors to the Inners, but when had Andrion 2’s human ancestors departed Earth? It sent a chill down my spine.

In stark contrast to Andrion 2, Andrion 3 was a violent, volcanic world, bleeding flame and lava from millions of glowing wounds, cloaked in eternal clouds of thick, black, poisonous smoke, and rocked by spectacular explosions from great volcanic mountains. Andrion 3 was also inhabited: by exosegs. That would have been bad enough, but these exos were giants, horrific primeval eating machines. Planet Hell had swarmed with exosegs, but I didn’t mind them; they seldom grew larger than my foot. I prefer foot-sized exos, they’re easier to squash.

Andrion 3’s exos were a nightmare. I hate exosegs. I especially hate large exosegs. And very large exosegs terrify me. The techs labeled them Exoseg Gigantic.

Tens of thousands of different species thrived on Andrion 3, mindless swarms scrambling about madly through a world on fire, feeding off whatever lived in the bitter, black, rocky soil and off each other, most of them burrowing deep underground to live in teeming hives in total darkness. I wanted no part of them.

Survey had noted a dominant species. It held the edge over the others in intelligence as well. These two factors do not necessarily go together, but in this case they did. My programming warned me to be suspicious of any creature that shows the slightest spark of intelligence, and especially of a dominant species that is intelligent as well. The Dominants had established a total control over the other species, which they used to perform a variety of tasks for them. We had no idea where the basis for control lay, but it was not physical size or strength or aggressiveness, for the Dominants thoroughly controlled a larger soldier species which should have been able to tear them to pieces at will.

A hive life! My skin crawled every time I looked at the images. We had no plans to visit Andrion 3, but it was always a good idea to know the neighborhood.

There was nothing of value here, yet the Systies were evidently interested in something. If they seized power on Andrion 2, the inhabitants were doomed.

The System, we called them Systies, was a vast, rotting galactic empire, ruled solely by force. It spanned more than half of the inhabited galaxy. The Mocains, the dominant race, were humans, but they sure didn’t act like it. Slavery nurtured the System, and the Legion was their nemesis. We killed slavers whenever we found them, and left their ships running red with blood. Justice obsessed the Legion and we were utterly merciless. The memory of the faces of those tortured slave-girls haunted me. I had no doubts. We were on the side of the angels. Avenging angels.

###

Atom
’s recons darted into orbit around Andrion 2 and proceeded to do a fastmap. The results showed no power systems, no Systies, and no human stock.

I admit that I felt a little relieved. No Systies! Perhaps ConFree had over-reacted. Maybe the Systies were not interested in Andrion 2 after all. But where were the natives? We could only assume they had hidden in the forests. It seemed strange that a total sweep of an inhabited world had turned up not a single sign of the most advanced species on it.

I didn’t like this, not one bit.

Nearing assault orbit, we took every precaution. Four cruisers detached themselves from
Atom
and launched a swarm of smaller ships. Fleets of scouts and fighters and probes swept near and far throughout the system. Nothing stirred. Only the noises of nature, hissing and chirping and whistling into our sensors. A task force of fighters orbited Andrion 3, just to be sure. Recon dropped into the atmosphere of Andrion 2, and swept over the planet.