Slave of the Legion (16 page)

Gildron got to his feet, a massive, powerful figure. Had I ever really looked at him before? I had always thought of him as an ape, but now he looked like a God. He put one great, hairy hand on Tara's shoulder, and one on mine. And he led us toward the doorway. Right into the light.

We walked through icy air, green lights glittering all around us. And two gigantic O's stood aside and let us pass. My heart was pounding. It was like a dream. My fingernails dug into my palms, and I could feel it just fine.

This was no dream—it was real! Gildron had just walked us past the O's!

Chapter 13
Two Billion Ghosts

"Hold still. This is a deep cut," Tara said. I held still. Tara pressed a fleshpad over a wound on my cheek. My body was slimy with medgel. I was covered with burns and cuts and bruises. I still didn't feel much because Sweety had pumped me full of mags and biotics during the assault, but it was going to hurt a lot when the mags wore off. My right leg was already tingling; it had been badly scalded.

Tara was in better shape because she had not spent as much time in the starmass as I had. But she was also covered with little cuts and bruises. As our A-suits had slowly deteriorated in the superhot temperatures, the interiors had begun to heat up.

"It's cold," Tara said with a shiver, continuing to dab at my face. She was wearing Gildron's huge elektra-violet tunic. It was so big, it was all she needed. I was still naked. We were sitting on a small ledge jutting out of the wall in a circular room. There was a round structure set in the middle of the room that looked like some kind of high-tech table, about shoulder-high, full of recessed slots and grooves, hiding unknown things. There were a couple of large vertical cushioned structures against the wall as well that might have been beds or chairs for the O's.

Tara was exhausted and stunned, but still absolutely lovely, fragile and slender, as exquisite and ethereal as a princess from the clouds. Her auburn hair was stringy and sticky with sweat, but it made no difference.

She was the same girl I had known in my other life, before the Legion.

"The bleeding's stopped," she said wearily.

"Wonderful," I replied without enthusiasm. Gildron had left the room, leaving us alone. We didn't know where he was. The O's had evidently let Gildron retain his medpak, and he had handed it to Tara before he left. We still had no idea what was happening. It was so strange and I was so tired that I did not even have the mental energy to wonder about it.

"We're not on a star run, you know," Tara said, huddled inside the tunic.

"Doesn't seem like it," I replied. I couldn't feel any of the pressure that came with being in the hole.

"Ship's grav is on, but we're not in stardrive. I wonder why."

I did not reply. It didn't matter, I thought. We were in the power of the O's—we were dead. It was just a matter of time.

"If we're not on stardrive," Tara continued, "it means we can't be too far from Uldo."

"Were you born with this optimistic streak," I asked, "or did you have to work at developing it?"

She sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Pale green lights and alien devices, watching over us.

"I don't understand it," she said. "About Gildron. What does it mean?"

"You're the psycher. You tell me."

"I have no idea, Wester. No idea at all."

"They must like him," I said. "Maybe they think he's cute."

"Another thing," Tara said. "They're not psyching us. I couldn't even move when they were psyching us. Now there's nothing."

"Yes, it's strange. Of theoretical interest, perhaps. Something to puzzle out between now and whenever that door opens and the O's slither in to kill us." It was freezing, and I didn't think I'd ever be the same again. Then the door slid open and my adrenalin surged wildly.

It was Gildron, shirtless, carrying some of our gear. The door snapped shut behind him. I breathed again. He dumped the equipment on the floor before us. Fieldpaks, another medpak, ratpaks, a toolpak, one canteen, a cooler, and our own litesuits, scorched and torn. Tara reached out and touched him, overcome. He grinned at her like a big, friendly monkey. I grabbed at my litesuit pants, shivering.

"You're all right, Gildron," I said. "Next time bring us the E's and a Persist."

"Poo-sit," Gildron said. "Dak-more." He opened up a fieldpak and hauled out my tacmod. I was so stunned I couldn't say a thing. He placed it gently into my hands, looking deep into my eyes. Then he turned back to Tara.

I struggled into my smelly, half-melted liteshirt and powered the tacmod on. The faintest spark of hope had just come alive inside me. Sweety, you lovely bitch, power up and give me the word. Just give me the word, tell me you're mine once again. Together, we may just have half a chance, against the O's.

"Hello, Thinker," Sweety said. "I am fully functional, on disconnect. Awaiting your commands." It was sweet music to me, the music of the angels.

"Low power, Sweety," I said quietly. "Map the ship."

"It's done, Thinker. How would you like the output?" I closed my eyes. Salvation! I could hardly believe it.

Tara moaned. Gildron knelt before her, gently cupping her head in his massive hands. He looked into her face calmly, blinking his eyes. She was sweating and trembling, her own eyes shut tightly. Now what, I thought—what the hell. She cried out, once, and her slim arms went up and she clawed helplessly, blindly, at the air. Then she screamed, a piercing shriek of horror that froze me in place for an instant.

I was at her side immediately. She had fainted, slumped in Gildron's arms. Gildron was obviously distressed, pawing at her hair. I snatched up the canteen and wet her face as we lay her out on the ledge. I ripped the medpak open again and her eyelids blinked and she came back to us.

"Talk to me, Tara. What's the sit?" She was holding her head in apparent agony, her eyes focused on Gildron.

"Answer me, Tara. Are you all right?" She just kept staring at Gildron, almost as if she was in shock.

"Legion to Tara, respond please," I repeated. Tara stirred, forcing herself to sit up on the ledge, silent and stunned, pale and weak. Still staring at Gildron. He showed his teeth, and touched her on the cheek with his hairy fingers. She took the canteen from me and emptied it over her forehead. It dribbled all over her face. She dropped the canteen and massaged her face gently. Then she spoke.

"I've been such a fool, Wester."

"Well, don't keep me in suspense."

"It's Gildron—he's not the same as us."

"I already knew that, Tara."

"It feels like my head is splitting wide open."

"Would you like a mag?"

"I'd better not. No—better not." She did not look good at all.

"Are you going to tell me about this?"

"Gildron—what a fool I've been!"

"We've already established that, Tara. Could you give me a few more details, please?"

She slumped back against the wall and looked vaguely around the room. "It was pure knowledge," she said. "It was…communication, but not as we know it. It wasn't psionics, or psyching. Not at all. It was a transfer of knowledge. Pure knowledge. So powerful I could barely grasp it. But he burnt it into my head. And it's about the O's, and about Gildron."

"And Gildron did this?"

"Yes—my darling Gildron." She smiled, a dazzling white smile, and ran a hand through his hair. He grinned back at her like a happy chimp.

"He never did this before?"

"No…I thought he was retarded. He's not. He's far, far beyond us. He's on an entirely different level. It's not really thought, the way we know it. It's…something else. I'm not sure what. But it's more powerful than thought. Whatever it is, he's able to communicate with the O's."

"Deadman! Really?"

"Really. They told him something, and he told them something."

"Well? What!"

"Hold me!" She was shivering, whether from cold or fear I did not know. I sat close beside her and pulled her to me.

Gildron squatted before us, still gazing into Tara's eyes, panting happily.

"I can hardly believe it," she said.

"Tell me."

"He told the O's we're intelligent."

"Huh?"

"They hadn't known it. They thought we were vermin. Troublesome, sometimes dangerous pests. Their intelligence—their awareness—is on a different level from ours. Different. A very advanced type of awareness. They thought we were just animals to be harvested, to be exploited. They had no idea we were sentient, intelligent beings, with emotions, and hopes and dreams and feelings. No idea at all. They thought we were…bugs. They felt about us just as we feel about exosegs."

I greeted this news with stunned silence.

"They recognized Gildron as intelligent," she continued. "God, he told me so much! It's all a jumble."

"Un-jumble it. I want to hear this."

"The O's…they're from far, far away in spacetime. They are a hard race, with a long history. They've lost all their worlds, and need more. They need our worlds."

"Well, we'll just see about that."

"No, you don't understand. This changes everything! The O's understand now, about humans. Gildron told them all about us. The O's have nothing against us. They'll happily live side-by-side with us on the same worlds, if we stop fighting them. They want only peace for themselves.

"Physical energy weapons—warfare itself—is difficult for them. It's not really a physical world they live in—that's the only reason humanity is still alive, because they have had to adopt our primitive methods to fight us."

"They want only peace! Are you crazy? Can you hear yourself?"

"It's true, Wester! I can feel it! It's like…a blessing. It's a pledge, to us all. Peace, like a silent snowfall. Peace, a blessing from the sky, from the O's. Peace for the Galaxy. Peace at last! And it's all from Gildron! My God, he's…a hero, a God. Gildron, I love you!"

"They've psyched you! You're babbling idiocy!"

"You can't feel it, Wester! It's true! They told Gildron, and he told me! They hadn't understood us—they said they're sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry! What are you saying? We've lost two billion dead—maybe more! And now they're sorry? Sorry? Scut! They can burn in hell!"

"Wester! It's up to us to tell the others. Peace, Wester. Real peace, universal peace, the end of the war with the O's!" She seized my shoulders, and her eyes were blazing.

"Get your hands off me! You must be insane! Two billion dead! They've been harvesting us like animals, for meat and blood. You want us just to forget about that? For peace? Sure, let's deal—just like the Systies did on Andrion 3. Peace for us, death for our children! I've got two billion ghosts crying out for revenge. Peace? I'll give these bastards peace! Gildron, I want our E's—now! Tara, look at this—Sweety has mapped the ship!" I was trembling so violently with rage that I almost dropped the tacmod.

Tara pushed it aside. "Wester, don't do this. I won't let you do this! You've got to listen to me. We can end the war! You and me and Gildron."

"I don't want to end the war!"

"You can't mean that!"

"I'll end the war when the body count is two billion O's—all right? Until then, you just stay out of my way!" I tore away from her and ripped open our gear, strewing it out on the deck. I was so enraged, I did not even want to talk with her any more. A tangle of equipment, but it wasn't enough. The toolpak, the medpak, the tacmod. They'd be useful. But we had no weapons.

"Gildron…" I began.

"Wester, please." Tara's slender fingers were on my shoulders again. She knelt beside me. "I know how you feel. I, more than anyone. I've dedicated my life to the Legion—my whole life. I've sacrificed everything for the Legion. But this is important. More important than anything that either of us has ever done before. It could mean peace for humanity, now. The end of the war. Think about it!"

"Look at this—Sweety has mapped it all for us, the entire ship! We'll need this." The tacmap glowed on the tiny d-screen. The ship was shaped roughly like a massive, blunt triangle, tipped with a long, thin nose boom ending in a bulbous cone.

"Wester…"

"Blackout, Tara. Gildron, listen up! I want the weapons—all of them! The E's, the minis, the contac grenades, the timers, the psybloc grenades—the ampak. All of it, do you hear? Can you get to it, Gildron? Can you bring it here, to us?"

"Reapons," Gildron said. He stood up, a massive, frightening shirtless giant.

"No," Tara said. "Gildron, no." Gildron looked at her, and then squatted down again.

I turned to Tara and glared at her. She looked back, bravely. "No," she repeated.

"No?" I said. "No? No, from Tara, for the Legion? There must be some mistake. No, she says. Who are you, anyway? I think they've taken your mind away. This isn't Antara Tarantos-Hanna, and it isn't Cintana Tamaling either. They both worked for the Legion. The Tara I knew wasn't interested in peace—she wanted Justice! She said she was on a mission from God, and all she wanted to do was to haul an E, marching in the mud, for God, for Justice. Well, I guess it was just words. I guess it was all crap. Because it's decision time, kiddo—right now! No more words! Are you with the Legion or not? Am I going to get another no? Say it! Say it, and I'll believe it!"

"Wester…"

"Shut down! Don't you Wester me! I don't want to hear it! There's something you've forgotten—we've got a mission! Our mission is to take this ship, for the Legion!

"That's the mission! That's the only mission! And there was nothing in the mission orders about making peace with the O's! Now are you with the Legion or not?"

"The O's are offering a cease-fire, trooper! Standing orders—you report it to your superior! Those are the regs, Beta Three—Legion regs!"

"That's right, trooper, and you've done your duty—you've reported it to your superior—that's me! And I'll report it to my superior just as soon as I regain contact with him. But until then, our orders stand! And the chain of command runs from me to you to Gildron, here. Now let's just see what you really stand for, shall we? There's no ifs, ands or buts, Tara. You're with the Legion, or with the O's. Which is it?"

"You know the answer, Wester." Her face was frozen, drained of color.

"No, I don't—you talk a lot about the Legion, but the Legion needs you, right now, and you said 'no'. That's what you said—'no'. No, for the Legion! Now let's hear it again!"

"Don't do this, Wester."

"Yes or no! No more crap!"

"You've got no right to ask, Wester. Nobody has the right to ask that of me. I'm with the Legion—you know it." She shuddered—I was not sure why.

"Well, I am the Legion, Tara. I'm your One. And I'm giving you a direct order. Tell that superior being over there to bring us our weapons—now!"