Secret of the Legion (5 page)

"Sure." I blinked, running my eyes over her slender, perfect figure.

"How's the water?" She didn't wait for a response, but dove right in. She hardly made a splash. She was obviously at home in the water. A swimming pool in a starship—these people were seriously crazy, as well as criminally wealthy. The System had taught us that wealth was evil. Whit and her friends were certainly either criminals or CrimCon—maybe both. And I was going to find out.

When she came back from her swim she settled down beside me, shaking the water from her short blonde hair, flashing me a cheery smile. Her nipples were fully visible against the wet top, and those legs were really distracting. She certainly knew it.

"Does it like the pool?" she asked.

"Fine," I said. It was warm and peaceful. The reflection from the water was glimmering off the ceiling. The two of us were alone by the pool.

"Would it like to mate with us?" Whit asked, touching me lightly on one leg. Nothing like the direct approach, I thought.

"Of course I would," I replied. "But not now. There are a few things we have to clear up first. You can tell your buddy Cinta that her patsy doesn't believe a word of the story you two have cooked up. Just tell her this is one dishwasher who's not buying it. She's going to have to find herself another fool."

Whit had suddenly flushed. "What does it mean?" she gasped.

"You think I'm stupid," I said, "and maybe I'm not as bright as I should be, because of the psyching, but I'm not stupid. Starlinks don't work across galactic zones, they don't work in stardrive, and they certainly don't work in realtime. Your Cinta—or whatever her name is—is probably on board this ship. So why don't you tell her to show herself? She's not fooling anybody." I closed my eyes and lay back on the warm tiles. I didn't have anything further to say, and it was wonderful just lying there in the warmth. I had exercised thoroughly, had a good swim, and now I was just soaking up the rays. I had already decided I was not going to believe anything these people had to tell me.

"Kaga, is it there?" I opened my eyes. Whit had got up and was standing a few steps away, speaking into a wristcom she had picked up off a poolside table. Look at those legs! Little beads of water were trickling slowly down those long silky legs. What a ride that would be! My eyes moved up to her lovely, tender little rear, pale cheeks seemingly straining to pop out of that skin-tight black mini. I wanted nothing more than to slip the mini down and take her up on her offer, right there by the pool. I should have probably mated with her first, and only later told her that I didn't believe her. Well, I was just a sub after all—sometimes we weren't too bright!

"Kaga here," the response came.

"Kaga, bring us the Beta Three hardfile, from our desk. We're at the pool."

"The pool? Will do."

She settled down beside me again. I didn't get up. She had a towel around her neck.

"We're sorry it doesn't believe us, Beta Three," she said. I did not respond. "It saved our life, Beta Three, on Katag. And we'll never forget that. We wouldn't deceive it. We're going to prove to it that we're telling the truth. Why should we lie? What do we have to gain?"

I looked over at her. "How should I know?" I replied. "I'm just a sub. I'm an ex-criminal who's been psyched. And you need a patsy—to do something for you. What better choice than someone who doesn't know who he is? You feed him some half-truths, suck him right in, and next thing he thinks he's a soldier of the Legion, and he's off on whatever suicidal venture you've cooked up for him. And if he's caught or killed, who cares? He's a psycho, a nobody, a throwaway, to do your dirty work. Nobody will even know he's gone. Nobody will care! What is it? A political assassination? Espionage? Ripping off a rival senso dealer? Let's have the punch line."

Kaga entered. He was one of the Cyrillian crew, a sinister black shadow. He put a doc case on the table, let his cold gaze wander briefly over Whit's body, and then withdrew.

"Take a look," Whit said, emptying the doc case on the table. Several little metal ID cards and a few solcards tumbled out. Whit withdrew a plastic printout from the case. "Your whole life is here."

I drew up a chair and picked up one of the gleaming metal cards. My face looked up at me from an image plate, young and confident. My hair was short and my skin was burnt dark from the fierce rays of some alien star. The Legion cross was etched into the metal at the top. That symbol was hated by billions in System worlds. It represented the triumph of the Outworlders—not to mention genocide and mass murder. There was a long number etched into the top of the card, and under it a live text box with words running through the window: 22 LEGION TRAINING COMMAND. ADVANCED COMBAT TRAINING—HELL COURSE. CERTIFICATION OF COMPLETION. FULLY FIT FOR COMBAT. REASSIGNMENT AUTHORIZED TO ACTIVE UNIT.

"Why is it marked invalid?" I asked.

"It's a souvenir, we gather. These were found in its personal effects on Andrion Two, Cinta told us. It evidently did its advanced training in some place called Planet Hell. This was its ID card at that time." I picked up another metal card. Another image, me again, seemingly even younger. Pale, wide-eyed and scared. The same number across the top, and another text box: 22 LEGION TRAINING COMMAND. VELTROS BASIC TRAINING. CERTIFICATION OF COMPLETION. REASSIGNMENT AUTHORIZED TO ACT.

It was also marked INVALID. There were several other metal cards, but I was getting the idea. Whit was toying with one of the holcards. She triggered it, and the image burnt its way into the air, mils from my face.

A disorderly gang of young troopers, males and females, dressed in camfax fatigues, grinning at the holscan, splattered with mud, celebrating something. I was right there in the middle of them, grinning confidently. One guy in the back row was seemingly about to plunge a hot knife into somebody else's back. I looked at the holo a long time. Arrogant, foolish young troopers. Innocents, grinning in the face of death. Was that really me? Had I really lived through such adventures? Did I really know these people? Kids, just out of school. I looked into every face. What had they meant to me? My skin was crawling. Strangers, all of them. I couldn't remember any of them.

"Here's its Legion ID," Whit said sadly. "This one's still valid."

Another metal card, boldly emblazoned with the Legion cross. The image was me again, tanned, alert, grim, wearing a black tunic. There was a text box along the top that read: 22 LEGION, 12 CER, CAT 24, BETA 3. CONFEDERATION OF FREE WORLDS, MINISTRY OF WAR. CONFREE LEGION, OUTVAC SECTOR COMMAND. MILSPEC: UNRESTRICTED. STATUS: ACTIVE. EXPIRATION: INDEFINITE. SERVICE: 22L, VBT, ACT, 22/12CER/CAT24B, ATOM'S ROAD, ANDRION 2, COLDMARK, ANDRION 3, ANDRION 2, MONGERA, VEDA 6, ULDO 3, ANDRION 2.

At the very bottom of the card there was another textbox with a warning notice: THIS IS TO CERTIFY THAT SUBJECT, DESIGNATION BETA 3, IS A CITIZEN OF THE CONFEDERATION OF FREE WORLDS AND A MILITIA VOLUNTEER ON OFFICIAL SERVICE WITH THE CONFREE LEGION. THE MINISTRY OF WAR OF THE CONFEDERATION OF FREE WORLDS AND THE CONFREE LEGION HIGH COMMAND HEREBY REQUEST ALL WHOM IT MAY CONCERN TO PERMIT SUBJECT UNHINDERED PASSAGE FROM ANY POINT OF ORIGIN TO RETURN TO CONFREE VAC, AND NOTIFIES ALL WHOM IT MAY CONCERN THAT ANY ATTEMPT TO DETAIN OR HARM SUBJECT WILL BE CONSIDERED AN ACT OF WAR AGAINST THE CONFEDERATION OF FREE WORLDS.

"It reads more like a declaration of war than an ID card," I commented.

"It's a nasty galaxy out there," Whit responded, "and the Legion is not too popular. However, everyone knows they mean exactly what they say. An ID card like that demands a lot of respect."

"Sounds like I had an interesting career. Twelve CER—what's that?"

"Twelfth Colonial Expeditionary Regiment—your unit. It was annihilated on Uldo. It's no longer active."

"Annihilated." I don't know why, but an icy wave was creeping through my veins.

"Most of its friends are dead," Whit said matter-of-factly. "But those of us who are left would very much like it to remember us."

"I've heard of Uldo," I said. "Wasn't it the first DefCorps-Legion effort against the V? And the Legion betrayed us?"

"It wasn't the first. And it wasn't the Legion that did the betraying. It was the DefCorps."

I pushed the ID cards aside. "You've gone to a lot of trouble. These are good ID's. I'll keep it in mind, should I ever need any help with documentation."

Whit activated another holo. I was standing there smiling, one arm over the shoulders of a stunning beauty. It was Cinta—Tara, Whit's buddy. We were both dressed in Legion camfax, relaxed and happy. And right between us, gazing shyly at the holscan, stood a little boy. A pre- schooler, leaning against our legs, right at home. We were each holding him by a hand.

And my head was spinning, again. 'Will you please stop doing that?' It was all I had to make their story true. It had come to me in the night, long before Whit and her Cyrillian had kicked in my door. I could still remember it all, whirling around in my head. There had been a boy, a child—and I knew this was that child. I knew it.

"That was Andrion Two, after Uldo," Whit said. "The last shot we had of it."

"Is Cinta my wife? Is that my son?"

Whit laughed. "It is confused, isn't it? No, Cinta belongs to nobody. And that's not its son. It's…an orphan."

"You were lying to me about the starlink."

"No, we weren't. Cinta was calling it from Dindabai. We're not lying to it."

"That's impossible—we've done a little reading. The laws of spacetime prevent it."

"The device we were using is Cinta's own creation. Cinta said it doesn't violate the laws of spacetime—it simply bypasses them. It goes into an area where they don't apply."

"Cinta created it? Nonsense! How stupid do you think I am? What is she? A spacetime physicist? An antimat engineer? If there was such a device, it would revolutionize galactic communications and probably star travel as well."

"We don't doubt it. Cinta had a lot of…unusual…help. Afraid we can't be more specific, but it's true."

"Nonsense. I don't believe a word of it."

"We've got its entire service record here."

"I don't want to see it. It's nonsense."

"Cinta warned us it was extremely stubborn. We can see that now. What will it take to persuade it that we're telling the truth?"

I looked away, up to the lights on the ceiling. "I'm not sure," I said. I had known Cinta—that much I believed. And the child. My hand moved over to the holo. Perhaps it was true. Perhaps it was all true, even the part about the starlink. How would I know? I was just a sub, after all.

"Cinta promises it will get its memory back, Beta Three—it promises! It will spare no expense."

"De-psyching? And how do I tell it from psyching?"

"We can't help it if it doesn't want help, Beta Three."

I looked calmly into her pale blue eyes. "I want my past back. If you can do that, I'll do whatever you want. Assassination, drugs—whatever. But it has to be real. Don't try to fool me. I'll know the difference!"

Whit held out one hand, palm up. "Deal."

I smacked it lightly with a fist. "Then do it."

***

A slight shudder ran over the ship. I closed the datapak. I knew we had just exited stardrive—and I knew I had done this before, in my previous life. I thought of it that way now—my previous life. The datapak was full of details about my previous life. I glanced at the chron on the wristcom Whit had given me. It was way too early. Something was wrong. Then the door to my spotless little cube slid open soundlessly and Whit was suddenly there.

"Want to see something?" She seemed bright and cheery.

"Sure."

"Follow us."

She took me to a small room furnished with several reclinable airchairs. There was nothing else in the room.

"Take a seat." She collapsed into one of them. I chose another.

"So now what happens?" I asked.

"Illumination," she said with a faint smile. She jabbed at something on the arm of her chair, and the ceiling cracked open.

Nuclear light flooded us, dazzling me, glittering phospho-hot, burning over my flesh, cutting the room into brilliant arcs of blazing liquid metal and icy black shadows. An observation port, I thought—polarization zero. My pupils were slowly widening now after the initial shock. I sucked in my breath. Two massive stars were burning above us, a double star system—a young electric blue giant glowing like the moment of creation, spitting holy actinic rays to light up the galaxy—and a companion star, a glittering, icy emerald-white sun, a precious galactic gem from Heaven's cosmic mine, married to the blue giant by a sparkling twisted highway of phospho gas, diamond dust, God's necklace, a holy road in the vac paved with a billion stunning gems. The two great stars were illuminating the universe, swirling in a mad cosmic dance, dazzling my eyes, crawling over my skin, crackling silently. The eyes of Heaven, God's own lighthouse. A beacon, a warning on the perilous shoals of infinity as we rush blindly into the dark, mindless and lost.

I was stunned, paralyzed, frozen and helpless, flattened against the airchair like a worm wriggling before the face of God. The warm rays of those alien stars were kissing my flesh, the image burning into my retina for all time. The double star was so brilliant it blotted out everything else in the sky. There was only that incredible, massive, glittering vision—the blinding blue giant, the elektra-green white, joined by that astounding magical road of holy dust, an eerie, impossible marriage that could only have been arranged by the gods.

The floodgates of my mind burst wide open and I heard it—the music of the stars, rushing over me like an irresistible evil drug, exploding in my mind, hissing in my ears. It was the stars—I could hear them! Massive red super-giants, roaring, the breath of hell. Ancient dead black dwarfs, moaning, billions of lonely light years of regrets and longing. Shimmering, silvery nebulae, sweet far-off melodies from the edge of infinity. Insane black holes, deadly gateways to other universes, howling total destruction. Hot yellow suns, crackling and spitting, full of life. Stars, stars, galaxies of stars, whispering in my mind. My skin was ice cold. This was the terrifying music I had heard, ever so briefly, in my dirty little hole in the workers' hostel. The music of the stars!