"Three, Five—" Beta One looked around the installation, his E in one hand. "Cover all the exits—see the tacmap. It looks like this site connects directly with the starport. See that corridor? The O's could kick in the door in a frac. I want silence. Ten, what's the sit?"
"Let me get in the cockpit first, will you?" Priestess was helping him hobble up the service stairs to the aircar cabin.
"Do it!" Snow Leopard was uncharacteristically nervous.
"Ten sir! Deadman!" I wasn't worried. If the aircar could be fixed, Redhawk would do it. Psycho and I found our places. We were each covering two doorways. Snow Leopard craned his neck, inspecting the ceiling and the launching locks.
"Three, Five—if it's the O's, we go all out. Five, use tacstars. The rest of us go to xmax and laser."
"Mother is pleased," Psycho replied. Snow Leopard ignored him. Mother was Five's Manlink—the Mother of Destruction. She'd saved our asses more than once.
"These bastards shouldn't be here," Snow Leopard said, kicking a door open into what looked like a mini office. "I'll be in here looking for info." He ripped a file drawer open and scattered the contents.
"Ohhh, that's good." Redhawk was off his feet, in the pilot's seat, right where he belonged. "Now let's see what's ailing this old gal." It was a DefCorps aircar, an older model, but still a highly dangerous beast.
My blood stirred just looking at it. I couldn't help it; I had been bound for the Legion ever since my birth. It had just taken a little time for me to realize it. But all it took nowadays was an aircar, sitting in the repair bay. On Andrion 2, we had seen Legion fighters, booming over the burning ruins of the Systie base, flashing past and wheeling in the night sky; and they were so beautiful, I had almost cried. On Coldmark, the Spawn had dropped in the whole fighter force to rescue us and the System had met us, face to face; and we had smashed them to bits. No, I was with the Legion, for life or death, for good or evil, in sickness or in health, for better or for worse, no looking back. And every once in awhile I realized it. It was scary. I tore my eyes away from the aircar and clutched my E tighter. My fate was to die, under strange stars, for the Legion.
"Ten, report." Snow Leopard did not like it here, I could tell.
"I can fix this girl, One. But I'm going to need some new internal power packs. I'm giving Priestess instructions on what I'll need right now."
"Is it all here?"
"Sure, we'll find it."
"So you can fix the aircar?"
"That's a big ten!" Salvation, for us all! Redhawk was a genius—how could we survive without him? We were going to get out of this madhouse!
"Alert! Movement! Life! Human! Target approaching, as marked!" Sweety's icy metal voice hissed in my ears, the tacmap glowing red, pinpointing the target, a flashing red dot approaching us in the corridor to the starport. We ran to cover the door. It was a personnel door, closed and locked. Snow Leopard and Psycho and I skidded to a stop, bracketing the door, ready to fire. My E was at my shoulder.
"Three, E on v-max auto," Snow Leopard ordered. "Fire when the target appears. Five, stand by on laser. Fire only if the target's in armor. This one's human. I want it alive." Priestess dropped to the deck from the aircar, running to us, shouldering her E. "Nine, cover the other entrances. If anything else shows up, be prepared to go to energy systems."
Priestess whirled around to cover the other doors.
I could taste the fear. E on v-max auto, sights centered on the door. I watched the target on the tacmap. As it came closer, Sweety got a faint energy image.
"Target not in armor," she informed me. "Confirm it's human. No weapons."
"Thinker, v-min auto," Snow Leopard hissed. I made the adjustment.
"This is crap!" Psycho objected. "I don't believe this!"
"Stick to your orders!" Snow Leopard snapped.
"Target approaching door!"
I was ready, ready, ready, ready. The locks snapping open, he's got access, the door hissing open, a frozen instant of time, a male, pale face, my autovac cracking wildly, white-hot flashes erupting all over his body, the crack of doom echoing around the hanger; and suddenly he was down.
"Cease fire!" I ran up to the open door.
He lay sprawled in the corridor, litesuit smoking. His eyes were open, his mouth was open. The barrel of my E was right at his face. Then Snow Leopard was there, and Psycho leaped over the body and took up a position in the corridor with his Manlink.
I touched the Systie's throat with my armored fingers. "He's not breathing!"
"Priestess, up!" Snow Leopard commanded. She was there in a frac, tearing open her medkit.
"Save him, Priestess!"
"Biotic charge!" she responded, slamming the instrument on to his chest. His litesuit was still smoking. Vacmin is not normally lethal, but autovac is a bit heavy.
He jerked, and took a breath. His eyelids fluttered.
"You got him, Priestess!"
"Corridor is secure," Sweety informed me.
"Back to the hanger," Snow Leopard said. "Give me a hand." He had the Systie by one foot. I grabbed the other foot and Priestess took an arm. We dragged him through the door and Psycho backed in, waving his Manlink back and forth, giggling to himself. Psycho was getting stranger and stranger. He hit the control and the door hissed shut silently, sealing us off again from the corridor.
Chapter 6:
Oplan Gold
The Systie trembled. We had secured his hands behind his back and when Priestess brought him back to full consciousness, he found himself surrounded by Legion soldiers in black A-suits and darkened red faceplates. He could see no human faces, only his own reflection flashing off the faceplates of the enemy. I stood to one side, my E pointed right at his chest. He was indeed a weird bird, still young, unarmed and unarmored, pale and sickly, thin and wiry, cold blue eyes and shaven head, dressed in a rumpled civilian litesuit. He did not look like a soldier.
Snow Leopard cracked open his helmet and removed it. He was a pale horror, white hair and hot pink eyes glaring at the Systie. The Systie stared at him, wide-eyed.
"Systie, this is a combat tactical interrogation," Snow Leopard recited coldly. "You are a combatant, and you are being interrogated by field elements of the Twenty-Second Legion of the Confederation of Free Worlds. We are now in a combat situation, and your cooperation is essential to our tactical success. If you refuse interrogation or attempt to deceive us, you will be shot dead immediately as a combatant. If you cease resistance…"
"Just a moment," the Systie squeaked. "Just a moment—Legion's mistaken. We're not a combatant."
"Silence!" Snow Leopard barked. "The decision is ours to make. You will speak only when responding to our questions! All Systies here are combatants. You have been designated a combatant by us, based on your presence here. If you cease resistance, and cooperate to our satisfaction, you will be granted official ConFree prisoner of war status and will come under the protection of the laws of the Confederation and of the interstellar code on prisoners of war. Do you understand the situation?"
"No! It's Legion who doesn't understand! We're not a combatant! We're a diplomat! We're a diplomat of the Galactic Service of the Government of the United System Alliance. Our status is protected by interstellar law. We are not a combatant!" The Systie was twitching.
Snow Leopard paused, staring silently at the Systie. Then he turned to me. "Set your E to flame, Three," he said calmly. "I don't want to alert the O's." I made the adjustment. Snow Leopard focused on the Systie again.
"A diplomat, huh? What's a Systie diplomat doing in ConFree vac? Or—better yet—what's a Systie diplomat doing in an Omni starport? Would you care to answer either of those questions?"