Marshall Thomas: Soldier of the Legion

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.

We watched the show on the d-screens in the aircar bay, next to those sinister rows of armored aircars. Snow Leopard expected something. Our whole Combat Assault Team had gathered, all seven squads, and the other CATs in nearby bays. The tension built.

A sacred moment, I thought, quietly watching the flickering images. Great forests covered the land. Ponderous, ancient trees covered with brilliant multicolored blossoms towered into the sky, bursting with fruit and seeds and festooned with long tangles of hanging vines and moss. Rolling flowerfields of scarlet and gold and blue and silver reflected every color in the spectrum.

Small, leathery birds with great translucent wings glided effortlessly high above the trees. Under the forest canopy, the probes revealed an endless variety of delicate plants and animals crawling and climbing and hiding in the vegetation.

Out on the plains, diaphanous flying creatures floated silently on the wind like angels, awash in sunlight. Light grav, atmix close to perfect. A tranquil, dreamy world, the sky a brilliant blue, flecked with powdery white clouds.

Legion paranoia clawed its way through the fairy-tale scenes. My skin crawled. Who could believe such images?

A rainstorm swept past one of the scouts, and a rainbow glittered in the spray. The pilot shouted for joy. We found no sign of Systies. No sign of the natives. We swept the spectrum. No advanced signals of any kind. A primitive, quiet, virgin world. More perfect than we ever dared imagine.

I didn’t believe it for an instant.

Recon darted over the forests, swooped low over great raw mountain ranges, and flew over vast deserts of black sand and frozen wasteland. Nothing. Where were the natives? Survey had originally spotted them in the forests, and I had a view projected on the bulkhead over my desk that showed three separate smoke trails rising from a vast forest. I thought it quite a shot. But there were no smoke trails now-only silent forests.

Firefall, the expedition leader, didn’t like it. Nobody liked it. It was very peculiar.

Off to one side, a shout drew our attention. Squad Delta surged over to the arms lockers, excited.

“Listen up!” Snow Leopard raised a hand as he listened to the command channel on his headset. “All right, here it is. Command’s sending a heavy task force down to launch a max-assault on our initial objective. Beta will be participating! Move it, troopers! Armor and arms-NOW!”

We scrambled to the lockers. The whole aircar bay surged as Legion troopers fought to get at their A-suits and weapons. It looked like the entire CAT was going!

“Seal the car! Lock restraints! Night vision! Beta! Count off and weapons report. Mark!” The overhead lights flickered and went red as we counted off in response to Snow Leopard’s shouted commands. In my armor, I strapped into the seat, my E glowing softly at my chest, all systems green. My adrenalin was already flowing for the long ride down.

“Sir, Beta is A amp;A, aircar sealed.” Snow Leopard reported our status.