"The duty crew at the hanger split up and left, to investigate the situation. They only left one unit to cover the hanger—and us. Finally it left, too."
"Where did he go?"
"We think the V called it. We thought perhaps the Variants didn't understand, about the attack—about the difference between the System and the Legion."
"It's you who don't understand," Snow Leopard said. "The O—the V—understand us perfectly."
"All our work is for nothing now. A hundred years." The Systie gazed blankly into space. "We were alone after that. Just us. It has no idea what a tragedy this is."
"I find it amazing," Snow Leopard remarked, "that a person of your obvious intelligence is so totally blind to the true consequences of what the System has done here. Don't you have any doubts at all about the morality of your mission?"
"Doubts? Doubts? None! No! We are soldiers of peace, giving our lives for peace, for understanding between two worlds, two species, two entirely different forms of life. And the result has been clear: generations of peace!"
"And the cost?"
"What cost? Unitium? Something we don't need? Yes, some of our people have died—too many! But it's a small sacrifice, for galactic peace!"
"How many billions of humans were exterminated by the Omnis—the V—in the Plague War?"
"Our point exactly! How many billions have lived since our successful contact?"
"We defeated the Omnis in the Plague War. We shattered their fleets, and drove them back."
"We have no argument with that."
"And the unitium? You don't wonder about the unitium?"
"Well, of course, we wonder."
"You don't wonder why they're willing to communicate with the enemy—to suspend their advance for a hundred years—to gain an endless supply of unitium?"
"Does Legion have the answer?"
"You don't wonder how many billions are going to die, because of your stupid, short-sighted policies? You don't wonder about your children? You don't wonder about the future of our own species? Don't you think it worth defending? How about the next generation? What are you willing to them? Slavery? How about your own children? Do you have children?"
"We…we have no children."
"I'm sorry. I forgot. Diplomats don't have children. Such emotions might confuse you." We knew Outworlder diplomats serving the System were castrated upon entry into the service.
"We are not ashamed of our condition. It was completely voluntary. A diplomat cannot afford to have a biased viewpoint. We deal with important questions."
"Important questions? Do you believe slavery is preferable to death? Do you believe freedom from slavery is worth risking your life? No, let's change the question—is your life more important than your children's? What's the logical response to that? How about a choice of life—this generation or the next. One gets to live, one gets to die. What's your choice?"
"Legion doesn't understand."
"No, it's you who don't understand! You despise the Legion because our objectives are different. You're focused on the present. We look at the future. We're not fighting for us—we knew we're all doomed, every last one of us. We're fighting for our descendants, for the unborn. I don't want children of mine living as slaves to the Omnis. If it was up to you and the System, they would."
"It's making assumptions about the Variants without evidence."
"Two billion dead. Is that enough evidence? My proven assumption is that they want us all dead."
"We've learned so much about them! They're learning about us, too! With understanding comes tolerance."
"The only thing they want to learn about us is how to kill us most efficiently. And I'm sure you've been a great help to them."
"It's too bad Legion's government does not agree with that."
"What do you mean by that?"
"We mean its self-righteous braying arises from ignorance. It's easy to criticize the System, isn't it? Blame it all on the Systies! Does it think its own government was ignorant of what we were doing?"
"You're lying!" Snow Leopard appeared genuinely shocked.
"Oh, yes—this would be a good time to lie, wouldn't it, one lie and you die. No, we're not lying."
"Explain!"
"The highest levels of ConFree have known about our efforts for at least a decade. We were briefed on that when they gave us the mission. A delegate from ConFree even visited STRATCOM for a briefing—we briefed it ourself!"
"That's insane! We knew nothing of this!"
"Of course not! It was a sensitive matter. Why should ConFree brief the Legion? They probably don't trust the Legion—would it brief a soldier about a sensitive diplomatic and political secret such as this? Of course not! So don't be so damned self-righteous! Its own people knew about this, and approved, and kept the secret—otherwise the entire inhabited galaxy would know about it! The Legion has a very efficient proprop apparatus."
"I don't believe it, One," I said. I was stunned by the Systie's claim. "ConFree wouldn't do that. Why would they do that?" Even as I spoke, I knew the Systie was telling the truth. I was horrified—my whole world was falling apart.
We fought for ConFree—we died for ConFree. Why would they do that?
"I don't believe it either," Snow Leopard replied quietly.
"One!" It was Redhawk. The assault doors to the aircar were wide open. Redhawk was in the pilot's seat; Priestess was leaning over him. The instrument panel was aglow with green lights. A faint, eerie whine grew in intensity to a dull, throaty hum. The aircar was alive! A chill ran over my flesh.
"Aircar functional," Redhawk reported. "Fully charged, fully armed. All combat systems report ready status. We are prepped for launch. Awaiting your orders."
Snow Leopard stood up. The Systie cautiously got up as well, hypnotized by the aircar. "It isn't going out there in that thing, is it? They'll swat it in a frac. It won't last an instant!"
"Shut down!" Snow Leopard snapped. "Three, escort the prisoner into the aircar and board. Five, board. We're going to go out there and attack whatever we find." I pointed the barrel of my E at the Systie's face and he moved in slow motion to the aircar. Now it was clear—Snow Leopard had made up his mind. We were going to die, just as the Second had said, for the Legion. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions shot through my heart. But I knew, no matter what, I would do exactly as Beta One said.
"We can't oppose them," the Systie said. "It's not possible! Believe us! We know them better than it!"
"Shut up or I'll kill you," I threatened him. I was angry. I didn't want this Systie worm to witness our deaths.
"His opinions are just what you'd expect," Psycho commented acidly, "from somebody who has no balls." We boarded the aircar. Psycho took the left door, I took the right. Priestess found a seat behind Redhawk. The Systie sat near me, sweating. We were waiting for Snow Leopard.
Snow Leopard stood several mikes away from the car, his back to us. His helmet was still hooked to his U-belt. He held his E in one hand. He appeared to be looking around. His gaze wandered up to the ceiling, then around the walls. We waited. Redhawk looked back at us from the pilot's seat, gave us his craziest grin, and locked on his helmet. The car was purring like a cat. I snapped my helmet on and the screens came up on my faceplate. I checked my E—all set. A & A, armored and armed—Beta was ready for its last mission. I felt fear and sorrow and a dull, aching regret. All I really wanted was to live with Priestess, forever and ever and ever, someplace where nobody could find us. But it was not to be. We were both soldiers of the Legion, and the Legion needed us.
What was Snow Leopard up to? He looked back at us once, his face cold and troubled. Then he turned and took a step away from us, switching his E to the other hand.