March of the Legion (8 page)

I gently pulled the tubing from her arm—it was attached with a regulator of some sort. I slapped on a patch. She began trembling violently. What could we do? They were only alive because the air in this section of the base was still breathable. How could we take them with us? It would be a procession of the dead and the doomed, sleepwalking through the Realm of the Ghouls. I did not even dare to voice my questions.

"Come on you, slimy subs! Mommy's ready!" Psycho was going berserk. "I'll roast you alive! Crawl out of your holes, subs! Try Legion blood, you worms! I'll stick this link right up your ass!" Psycho was whirling his Manlink around wildly, ready to fire, his eyes flashing behind his faceplate.

"Calm down, Five!" Snow Leopard ordered. "I have some news for you."

"News? News? Scut! I got news for you—we're not leaving here until every last, stinking O is dead!"

"Warhound is here," Snow Leopard said calmly.

"What? Where?"

"Close. He's close. He's getting closer. Follow me."

We were shocked into silence by Snow Leopard's statement. And now he was moving again, into another open, dark doorway.

Follow me. No explanations, from our One. How could he know where Warhound was, when even Sweety did not know? What would happen to the Systies? We followed. What the hell else could we do?

We followed.

###

"Six on scope," Sweety announced calmly. A chill shot through my veins. This was not a good place. It was a seemingly endless series of tall cubicles, cloaked in total darkness, strange grilled glassy walls, a mushroom-shaped column rising from the center of each cubicle, as tall as a man. Alien devices hung from the ceiling, and many of them had fallen to the floor, blocking the cubicles. Each cubicle was open where the walls would have met, four separate exits leading to eight adjoining cubicles. It was a twisted maze, and it was buckling and breaking up.

The dying starport shuddered and groaned. Tortured metal shrieked and moaned. Vibrations rattled our bones.

The floor shifted under me. A dull boom echoed in my ears.

The roof cracked and rippled. The lava was getting closer. I checked out the tacmap. Snow Leopard was in an adjoining cubicle just ahead of me. Psycho was in a cubicle just behind me.

Warhound was up ahead—clearly marked on my scope, a glowing point of light: B6. There was no doubt about it. One had been right all along—it was Warhound!

"Six, One. Report." Silence, only the hissing of the tacnet in our ears.

"Six, One. Report." Silence. Silence, silence. Warhound was moving.

"Six approaching," Sweety informed me.

"Warhound, it's Snow Leopard. Report! Have you got us on scope?" Snow Leopard was moving forward, toward Warhound. I followed, threading my way past massive, downed instruments, in and out of cubicles. This was not good. I did not like this at all.

"Warhound, we're approaching you. Is your commo out?"

Silence. Only silence, from Beta Six. Snow Leopard was almost on him.

"Six on xmax, safety off!" A warning, from Sweety.

"Six, it's One. Don't…"

A shattering explosion, brilliant white-hot shrapnel ricocheting everywhere, burning white tracks on my darksight. Again, again! Warhound was firing auto xmax at Snow Leopard!

"Cease fire! Cease fire! It's One!" I shouted.

"Warhound, it's Snow Leopard! Cease fire!" One ordered. I charged forward, dodging around massive chunks of metal, in and out of cubicles, snatching glances at Warhound and Snow Leopard on the tacmap. Warhound was only a few cubicles away now.

"Warhound, it's Thinker! Cease fire!" The wall exploded, glowing with laser tracks.

"Six firing at you with laser!" Sweety informed me briskly.

"Psycho, Warhound is firing at us!"

"Scut!"

"Beta, retreat! Six is firing at us!" Xmax auto, ripping away, a long, wild burst, flashes of lightning dancing on my faceplate. A tremendous explosion split the darkness. My tacmap flickered and faded. A deceptor was banging away, scrambling everything.

"I've fired deceptor," I heard Psycho in a wave of crackling static. "Get out…"

"Six advancing on you!" Sweety was still with me!

"Don't shoot him, Thinker!" Snow Leopard ordered—I could barely hear him. I was scrambling to get away, darting in and out of cubicles at random, heading away from Warhound, a glowing dot on my tacmap.

"Six pursuing!" Xmax, supersonic slivers of steel whistling all around me, my suit suddenly ringing with hits, rocking me off my feet.

"Multiple hits!" I landed up against one of the metal mushrooms, my ears ringing, my faceplate a flashing mass of red lights, alarms ringing in my ears. Warhound stepped into the cubicle.

Warhound, armored and armed, black armor smoking, red faceplate dark and dead, raising his E calmly, the stock sliding easily into his shoulder, the barrel pointed right at me, brilliant laser sight flooding my faceplate, as cold as death. I snapped my E to V-max auto and fired. The world exploded in my face. I winked out in a flash of atoms.

Chapter 7:
Death's Cold Road

Get up! Get up! Get up! Deadman, get up, Three!"

Urgent commands in my ears. It was One, it was Sweety, it was Five. I was burning—burning to ashes. My blood was on fire, my bones all shattered, my muscles shredded, my brain split wide open.

"Get up, Thinker! Alert! Alert! Situation Violet! Enemy approaching! Alert! Alert!" Shot in the heart, I came back to life, crawling up out of the dark. It was pitch black—I could see nothing! No, a glimmer of light—a lolite! My helmet was off, someone leaning over me. It was Snow Leopard, a quick glance at me, his E flashing past my face.

"Three's back. Get up, Thinker, they're coming." Snow Leopard was maddeningly calm. The lolite was suddenly gone and darkness rushed over me. I tried to get up. Pain shot through my body. My helmet was slammed into place and locked on—darksight, green phospho magic with me, Sweety in my ears, chill futures, the tacmap flashing to life.

"Prep for tacstar, Five."

"It's a ten, One. They're dead—the walking dead." Psycho was cold as ice.

"Unidentified life form approaching! Probable Omni! Life form masked by mag field!"

Adrenalin shot through my system. I struggled to my feet, raising my E. Unidentified life form—Deadman, save us! It was the O, coming right at us.

"Unidentified energy probe—high mags—off the scale."

Sweety's words were like daggers. Warhound was lying on the deck in a pile of smashed-up O equipment, his helmet off, his armored wrists tied together in front of him. He was staring sightlessly into the dark, sweat beading his forehead.

"Deadman! What happened?" I blurted out, setting my E to xmax.

"Warhound tried to kill us," Snow Leopard responded quietly. "Don't know why. Psycho got you both with a stunstar."

"God! Is Warhound all right?"

"Beta…Beta!" Warhound gasped, words from a dark pit of terror. "Fight them! Fight them! Fight them!"

"Unidentified life form on screen! Single target now in range. Probable O—recommend multiple tacstars." A phospho red dot pulsed on my faceplate, readouts flashing over the screen.

"Blast 'em, Five!"

Five leaped forward to Snow Leopard's command, an obscene black metal spider, faceplate glowing red, Manlink up to his shoulder. The universe split wide open in a lightning flash, ripping audibly like a hot knife in rotten silk, screeching like wounded metal, rising in intensity, freezing my flesh. Tacstars, flashing straight to the target; multiple cenite walls disintegrating like jelly, again, again, again, lighting us up, bursting, a nuclear flash; my faceplate dead black; sudden brilliant holy white glare; glittering flowers of death. The shock wave hit us, knocking me flat. Psycho fired full auto tacstar, micronukes bursting to life, poison toadstools of power, Legion stars, rocking the entire base. I scrambled to my feet and rushed forward screaming hoarsely, firing full auto xmax. Snow Leopard rose up, his E flashing—full auto x. I held my finger down on the trigger. The noise was shattering; I could hear only a single, high screeching note, overriding everything else. The xmax burst everywhere and hits from our own shrapnel riddled my armor. My faceplate suddenly glowed faintly with a wild white webbing of tracks and I could feel the hits pinging onto my A-suit. I continued firing. Tacstars flashed wildly over my head and micronukes detonated to life again, again, again, burning white-hot in my eyes. The walls disintegrated, riddled, melted, ripped and torn and shot full of holes, supersonic slivers of death—my finger was frozen on the trigger. Xmax, xmax, xmax, ripping forth from my E, my holy E, death to all our foes. We stood in a wilderness of smoking metal, a shredded, twisted ceiling overhead, a junkyard of glowing metal all around us.

"Unidentified life form approaching!"

"Ahhh, scut!"

"Five, tacstars! Three, lasers!" Snow Leopard was on it.

I switched to lasers. More tacstars flashed overhead with that horrible ripping as micronukes exploded right on top of the O, brilliant flashes, shock waves rocking us back on our boot-heels. I could see the O on my tacmap—still there!

What the hell! One and I fired lasers simultaneously. Energy from the face of a star at the speed of light, flashing, dancing, lancing through alien metal like an axe through paper, relentless, merciless. We speared the O like a bug on a pin.

"Probable Omni approaching! Extremely high mag readings! Tacstars, xmax, laser no effect! Recommend random auto biobloc!"

Frozen with fear, I went to flame; I had no time to screw around with biobloc. We had no idea of the creature's frequency, and it was almost on us! I fired flame.

It burst out, a raging explosion of burning gas, a firestorm. Walk into that, alien. Breathe that! Burn, O!

A wave of cold rushed over us. My armor glittered with ice. My finger slipped off the trigger. Snow Leopard ceased firing. Psycho raised his Manlink, stunned and spent. Molten metal ran past our feet, smoking in the cold. A skeletal cenite wasteland of our own creation glowed all around us, a ghostly phospho green in my darksight. It burnt in the dark like the heart of Hell.

"Mag overload! Unidentified life form approaching, fire auto biobloc, Thinker!"

Sweety was insistent, but I could not comply. My heart had stopped. Icy fingers of death clutched my chest. I could hardly breathe, and a hot wave of weakness rolled through my body. I fell to my knees, dizzy and helpless, a cold knot of terror burning in my chest.

"It's here…" a strangled whisper from Warhound.

Snow Leopard was on his feet, weaving, clutching a silent E. Psycho buckled and fell to one knee, his Manlink clutched protectively to his chest, his eyes wild.

The O stepped out of smoke and fire, a towering black shadow, its image shimmering and wavering, glowing violet, not quite real. My muscles short-circuited, trembling violently. I had no control over them—no control. I gasped for breath. It had taken my breath away, my lungs burned. The O was like a mirage in superhot air, its image blurry and changing, tall and black and leathery, a deformed head, all wrong, split in two, dead wet eyes winking. Is it in armor? Terror shot through my veins; my hands trembled. I lost my grip on the E!

The O reached down for Snow Leopard in slow motion. A long twisted arm cloaked in darkness, shimmering, the O moving dreamily in a force field of glowing violet air. Snow Leopard stood paralyzed, motionless. The O's arm brushed past him lightly. Snow Leopard crashed to the deck violently, one hand clawing at the air. The O called out, a blood-chilling, reptilian croak; it was laughing at us!

"Fire full auto biobloc, Thinker!" Sweety urged me.

I could not breathe! Someone gurgled in my ears. My hands slapped at my E, but it was secured to my chest. I could not control my arms. The O moved. It came toward me, shimmering, hazy, relentless. The eyes—freezing me in place; dead alien eyes blinking slowly; my death, here like a dream; an obscene maw, rows of sharp wet needle teeth. The skeletal arm reached out to me, a leathery, slithering, scratching on the deck. Metallic fingers snapped onto my chest plate and the O jerked me off the ground like a rag doll. My body convulsed, twitching, out of control.

A flicker of movement behind me. Warhound hurled himself at the O, howling. His wrists were still tied but his armored fists clutched a cold knife. He struck. The blade slashed into the O.

Sweety shot a mag right into my heart and my fingers closed reflexively over the trigger of my plasmapak torch and squeezed. A sudden flash of energy burst from my chest, lancing straight into the O. Plasma, gas from the heart of a star. A hair-raising shriek and the O thrashed loose like a whirling demon, a cyclone, a tornado, shooting past me. I fell to the deck, helpless. I caught a glimpse of Psycho moving like a puppet, still on one knee, his Manlink suddenly functional. The air cracked and snapped—biobloc!

Sweety had never stopped talking, almost frantic now, what was she saying…"pulse firing random auto biobloc, Thinker! Get your E up! Aim it! I am firing it! Another mag! Get up, soldier! Get up! Get up!"

An explosion, shot in the heart! I screamed. I jerked to my feet, fingers still on the torch. Blue-hot plasma danced before me. The O was an icy tornado backing away from me, bouncing off Snow Leopard, who was on his knees. Snow Leopard raised his E and fired laser, right into the O. The laser ricocheted off wildly, dancing along the ceiling. The O shrieked, freezing my blood. It twirled madly, long limbs whirling, a cyclone of icy air, thrashing back through the wreckage, suddenly gone.

Gone! A whirlwind of air swirled around us in its wake—gone! And I could breathe again, gasping, great gasps of air, my lungs still burning.

"Deadman! I dropped those nukes right on its head!" Psycho gulped, exhausted.

"The damned laser bounced right off it," Snow Leopard panted. "That's a first!"

"Enemy still retreating," Sweety informed me.

"Sweety saved us," I said hoarsely.

The O was gone. All the cubicles around us were also gone, vaporized, blown to bits, now eerie metal skeletons crackling in a sea of fire, black smoke swirling all around us. Shot-up equipment dangled from the tortured ceiling in a writhing mass of snake-like cables. Warhound lay face-down on the deck, his wrists still tied, the cold knife still clutched in his armored hands.

"Warhound! Are you all right? Deadman, who tied his wrists?"

"Water. Water!" Warhound called. I put my canteen to his lips and he drank greedily. His eyes were wild.

"Get his helmet on."

"What happened, Six?"

"It was the O," Warhound explained slowly. "The O. I had to kill you. I had to!"

"Explain, Six!" Snow Leopard was right beside me.

Warhound was in agony; the thoughts rushing through his mind reflected on the harsh angular features of his tortured face. "I got out of the lake—the lava. They…called me. I couldn't resist. They took it all. There was a passage, a crack in the cliff. It was dark—I could hardly see them."

"How many O's?"

"I don't know! It was dark…and after awhile I knew the Aliens were coming. And I had to kill you—all of you."

"The Aliens?"

"Yes," Warhound bit his lip. "You were the Aliens. We…we were the Aliens. And the Aliens were evil. I had no doubts. You all had to die."

"Persuasive creeps, aren't they?" Psycho was upset—his beloved Manlink had failed us for the first time.

"Your helmet, Warhound." Snow Leopard handed it to me.

"Can you untie my hands?"

"Yeah, sure." I hit the release.

"Alert! Life! Human! Legion! Beta Nine approaching!"

Adrenalin, again. I could not take much more of this. I raised my E.

"Priestess! I asked you to stay with the aircar!" Snow Leopard was furious.

"I'm sorry, One. I heard you fight with Warhound, and then the O. I couldn't stay there." Priestess approached us through the skeletalized cubes, her E at her shoulder. Black smoke swirled around her; flames still licked along the wreckage. We kept our E's trained on her, set to vacmin.

"Lower your E, Nine!"

"It's all right, Beta—I'm fine," she assured us, lowering the E. "Redhawk is guarding the Systie. Is everyone all right?"

"We're all right," Snow Leopard responded. "Now—Thinker, Psycho, what happened? This is very important. The O retreated. Why?"

"Warhound attacked him with a cold knife," I replied. "And Sweety stung me, and I triggered my torch, and the plasma hit the O, at close range."

"Negative, Thinker," Psycho interrupted. "It was Mother that saved us. My tacmod fired the Manlink by itself—full auto random pulse biobloc. One of the settings must have affected it."

"I fired your E as well, Thinker," Sweety said in my ears. "Auto random biobloc, unaimed. It is possible one of the frequencies upset it."

"Surely it wasn't the knife," Snow Leopard said. "Let me see it."

Warhound handed it over. The blade was wet and sticky.

"Deadman, what's this?"

"I stabbed it, One," Warhound replied. "I stabbed the O."

"How did you do that, Warhound? I thought it had you under mental control. Deadman! How can a knife penetrate the force field?"

"I don't know, One. I don't know."

"One!" I was on my knees, inspecting the deck. "Look at this!" There was some filth on the floor. Dark, slimy filth.

"Priestess," Snow Leopard ordered, "Take a sample of that, and don't lose it. And take the knife, too. Lord, I can hardly believe this! He brushes off tacstars and xmax and laser like gnats, and then we take him out with a cold knife and biobloc."

"Don't forget the plasma!" I reminded him. "I got the O right in the chest with the torch."

"So it might have been the knife…"

"Or the biobloc…"

"Or the plasma."

"Or maybe a combination! Let's get outta here!"

"I've got the samples," Priestess said.

"Get up, Warhound. Helmets—let's go, let's go."

We backed out slowly, back the way we had come, through a spreading fire. The complex shuddered again, and we could hear a tortured grinding. The lava was forcing its way into the starport. It was definitely time to leave.

"NOVA! NOVA! NOVA! ANY LEGION UNIT…WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!"

The alarm almost shattered our ears. It was a full power burst, a wild and desperate appeal for help, a frenzied, suicidal gamble. We froze, our own holocaust burning all around us.

"Full power! They've had it." Snow Leopard declared grimly.

"Who is it?" Psycho whispered.

"Home in! Sweety, did you get that?"

"Ten, Thinker! I have zeroed the site, as marked." It flashed onto my faceplate.

"NOVA! NOVA! GAMMA TWO FOUR…" It turned into a scream, a shriek of agony. It raised the hairs on the back of my neck. Then there was only dead air.

"Gamma!"

"Oh no…Gamma!"

"Do we answer?"

"Move it, Beta! We answer with our feet! Everyone in the area will be moving on that site. But there's a good chance that's only us."

"That's where the O came from!"

"Is anyone going to give me my E back?"

"Somebody give Six his E back." Snow Leopard led the way. We followed him, tracking the O like a pack of wolves. Further into the Camp of the O's. We would never get back to that aircar, I decided. Never. We would follow Snow Leopard to our deaths. We would die with Gamma, face to face with every O on the planet. We would die for the Legion, just as we should. We would die with our E's on auto xmax, we would die in a burst of our own tacstars.