Marshall Thomas: Soldier of the Legion

Boudicca embraced her tighter, and raised her head. “That’s right, so don’t ask how many dead. Like he says, it doesn’t matter. We’re all bound for death. We all die for the Legion. You’ve seen the Monument. Your number will be up there one day, and your squad name, and your image, and one more line-’Died in Service’. Those troopers didn’t die for you, they died for the Legion, for all of us.”

“You can’t count the cost,” I said wearily. “The day the Legion starts counting the cost, we’re all done for. That will be the end of the Legion.” The trooper in the corner screamed. They were having trouble cutting the A-suit open. A shudder ran through me.

“I suppose you’re right,” Valkyrie said. “Please forgive me. I love you both.” I squeezed her hands, and Boudicca hugged her tighter.

“It’s all right,” I said. “It’s all right.” Boudicca didn’t say anything. I think she was trying not to cry.

###

“Merlin! How is it?” Merlin floated in an air pillow in the tank. Priestess and I had just found him. The body shop was chaos. Merlin opened his eyes carefully and looked around, his face strained. We could not see his legs; they were covered.

“Hey, guys. It hurts. Feels like somebody cut off my legs.” He attempted a smile. It didn’t work. “The lifies say it’s going to take months. Guess I screwed up, huh?”

“You did fine, Merlin,” I said. “It was Priestess who saved you. She got you back here.”

“Don’t you listen to him, Merlin,” Priestess said. “It was Thinker who saved you. And he saved me, too!” She had washed the blood off her hands. I had helped her. She seemed different now. I wasn’t sure how different.

Merlin almost smiled. “I remember you dragged me out of the hall, Thinker. I’m sorry. I guess I’m a danger to everybody around me.”

“What are you talking about, Merlin?” I was genuinely puzzled.

“You know I don’t belong here, Thinker. I belong in a damned research lab. I don’t belong in a CAT squad. I can barely get out of an aircar without falling on my face, you know that.” He stared into the space between us, avoiding our eyes. “I’ve been selfish. I’ve been indulging my own private fantasies, at your expense. The next time, I’ll probably get somebody killed.”

It was all a plan to drive me over the edge. First Gravelight, then Priestess, now Merlin. I tried to keep my temper. “Merlin, do you want to go back to a research lab?”

His eyes flashed up to mine. “No.”

“Well then, don’t! What are you whining about? We all want you back! You’re our Four, the best Four we’ve ever had, and we won’t let you go! Now shut down and turn your brain off. The damned thing is on antimat drive again. Deadman! Let’s go, Priestess.” I could not take much more of this.

We found Dragon in the operating room, his body encased in massive slabs of life-support equipment. The lifies swarmed over his still form. Serious internal injuries, they said. It was going to be a challenge, they said. Dragon’s eyes opened. He spotted us, behind the plex. One arm snaked out from under the equipment and slowly rose, forming a clenched fist. The fist faintly trembled, but I knew it was not from weakness. The dragons on his arm writhed, furious. And I knew Dragon would be all right. I returned his salute.

###

“Thinker! Have you seen Psycho?” Snow Leopard asked me, pale and sweating, still stinking of the battle. And still looking for Psycho.

“I’m sorry, Snow Leopard. No news yet?”

“Nothing. Nothing. Deadman! It’s such a bloody mess. Nobody knows anything.” He turned, his pale pink eyes scanning the body shop for his missing squadies. He appeared distracted and lost, slightly off balance, running one hand back through wet hair, his other hand toying with a comset. This was not at all like the cold, efficient Snow Leopard we all knew and loved. Was the whole world coming apart?

A ragged voice cut us off. “Thinker! Snow Leopard! Priestess! Deadman, you’re all right! I thought the whole squad was gone!” Psycho stood before us in a shredded, bloody litesuit, his face all bruised and cut, his nose smashed and bloody, a crooked smile.

“Psycho!” I croaked. “We thought you were dead!” I seized him by the shoulders, transfixed with joy. “You look great!”

“Where the devil have you been, Trooper!” Snow Leopard snarled furiously, his face flushing red, his eyes almost shooting sparks. “I’ve been looking for you for hours!” He glared at Psycho for an instant, then abruptly reached out and embraced him, his eyes closed, his face expressionless. Psycho flashed me a goofy smile over Snow Leopard’s shoulder.

###

“Here’s to Merlin, and here’s to Ironman, and here’s to Dragon.” Warhound proposed the toast, holding up a frosty mug of ale. We had run into him in the corridor. He had been helping Coolhand hobble toward the lounge.

The lounge was jammed, wild ionic music blasting from the speakers. Warhound appeared untouched by our Coldmark adventure, aside from a few minor bruises on his face. His harsh facial structure and deep eyes always made him appear formidable.

“Death!” We stood, raised our mugs, drained them dry, slammed them back empty to the table, and everyone laughed. Priestess got her ale all over her blouse. Beta at rest, at rest at last. I refilled my mug.

“Death!” We rose again, toasting Coolhand, and drained our mugs, and fell back into our chairs, wildly happy. Coolhand had broken a leg in the aircar crash and he had it enclosed in a plastic brace. The bone would knit itself shortly, the lifies said, but he had to take it easy for a week or so. Coolhand’s easy smile was back. He looked like a rich, handsome young layabout without a care in the world. He had the gift of making everyone around him calm down. Psycho related his adventures downside; he had cheated death a score of times.

“Death! Death! Death!” We cheered, and drank, and shouted. The ale was strong, it made me dizzy, but I didn’t care. Priestess sat right beside me, one hand clutching mine like a vise. Beta had come through again. Alive! It was good to be alive. Over at another table a group of troopies sang the squad song. It was a drinking song, and they were drinking.

“One squad one road

Nine tales to tell

One squad tac mode

Nine souls to Hell

One squad one road

Eye of the hole

One squad tac mode

Death is the goal

One squad one road

Gateway to Hell

One squad tac mode

Sound the death bell

One squad one road

Lost world, lost war

One squad tac mode

Last call Death Corps.”

It was a depressing song, but it was pure Legion. Somebody started singing the chorus.

“Deadman, Deadman

Hold me tight

Deadman, Deadman

Might is right

Deadman, Deadman

Won’t you say

Deadman, Deadman

Who dies today?”

I took another drink of ale. I had a headache. What a crazy way to make a living, I thought.

“One squad one road

Nine tracks on screen

One squad tac mode

Eight tracks on screen

One squad one road

Eight tracks on screen

One squad tac mode

Seven tracks on screen…”

It went on like that. We were insane, I decided. Completely insane. Nobody in his right mind would join the Legion. Nobody in his right mind would stay in. So we were crazy. Crazy. It struck me as terribly funny. I started laughing, and could not stop.

What a day!

As we filed into the wardroom of the Spawn, Cubes awaited us on the stage, a solitary figure, his hands clasped behind his back. He wore his blacks. He appeared to be gazing past us, somewhere out in space, somewhere out in time. The others sat behind him on the stage, talking quietly, all the Second’s CAT commanders.