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Doomed, we awaited the end, huddled in the dark. We never even made it back to the flooded hall. The starport was crushed, grinding in on itself, imploding, thousands of megatons of metal crumpling like paper, millions of megatons of lava, rushing in. Our road in had been sheared right off, and we had been carving a new road, with plasma, through a cenite nightmare, a cenite spiderweb. Now we were on our own road, Beta's Road, but it led nowhere. We were lost, pausing, as the base slowly ground itself to pieces all around us. Lolites illuminated the Systies, pale naked bodies sprawled all around us and sinister black A-suits stepping over them, our helmets scraping against the overhead.
We were in a raw, smoking, glowing hole, cut out of the wreckage with our plasma. Now we faced another drop, several levels straight down. No way out for the Systies. They could not even move. We were giving them a break—the Systies were on their backs, twitching. We had each contributed an emergency breather from our medpaks and Priestess had a few extras, so the Systies were still breathing oxygen. The air in the base was no longer breathable, as the lava rushed in with Andrion 3's poisonous air. The temperature was rising. The lava was close.
"Doesn't look good."
"Ten, One. Ten, One." No answer. Only another earthquake, and more shrieking metal. Faint groans from the Systies. "We're still out of range." Snow Leopard considered the options. I knew there was no need for me to think, with Beta One on the job.
"Thinker, do you think we're cut off?" Snow Leopard asked for my opinion. A bad sign. I noted he was on private.
"It could be," I answered carefully. "If not, we soon will be." Once the lava cut off the starport from the aircar station we were done for.
Valkyrie was right next to me, silent. She was my past, my lost love, a stunning blonde with icy emerald eyes. I had asked her how she was, on private, and she had said she was alive. What more could a soldier of the Legion ask?
"All right, Beta, Gamma…" Snow Leopard announced. "I'm going to full power, just for a frac—commo and sensors—just to see if there's still a way out, and to map it. If we're already cut off, we're going to die anyway. If the O's pick up the burst and respond, we die fighting. If not, perhaps we get out—if there's a way. I'm also going to contact Beta Ten. Stand by to die."
Stand by to die. I closed my eyes. I tried breathing deeply. Tangy hot sweat and violent fear—I could taste it.
Beta One would do it, I thought. One would do it.
"Full power," Snow Leopard ordered his tacmod. "Ten, One. Ten, One. Don't respond. Maintain your position. We're on the way. One out. Full power off." My tacmap exploded with data. The entire starport glittered in cool green tracks, all over my faceplate. In microfracs Sweety was listing alternate routes—two, three, five alternates, flashing over the tacmap, the most likely glowing in orange. Bless you, Sweety! Now we had it all—five routes! We were not cut off at all. The only problem was that the O's might have us, as well. Full power was a two-edged sword.
"Let's get out of here!"
"That's a big ten!"
"Deadman! It's the Legion for me!"
"Psycho, can you get that Systie on my back again?"
"Beta, Gamma—on me!" On Beta One we rose, naked Systies lying across our armored arms, our E's live and ready to fire. And we were on our One all the way, into the dark or into the light, to death or life, back on Atom's Road once again. I said a prayer and followed, one Systie on my back, another in my arms. I could hardly see. I was so charged, I think I had convinced myself that I was on a mission for God, and Snow Leopard was God. I knew damned well that nothing was going to stop us now.
I didn't know what the future held, and I didn't care. Everyone I cared about was with me—Beta and Gamma. And nothing else mattered at all.
PART II:
GHOST RIDERS
Chapter 8:
King of the Dark
Priestess was asleep in my arms when I awoke. It was still and cold, and we were huddled under thick blankets. For a moment, I was unsure where we were. Cold wet air—a partially open window port, a soft grey dawn. A shiver ran over my skin. Planet Two—we were back on the New World, Andrion 2, waiting for a mission.
I did not dare move. Priestess was breathing softly, completely relaxed, one arm draped over my chest. We were naked, and her body was warm against mine. A sleeping angel, fallen from the sky, wounded, right into my arms. She was perfect—a child's face, fine delicate features untouched by cosmetics: long dark eyelashes, a small soft red mouth, pale luminous skin, and a silken cascade of gleaming black hair. Deadman's death, how could I not believe myself in the hands of the Gods, sleeping with an angel? A warm rush, right into my heart—shot between the eyes. How in holy God's name did I deserve such a lovely creature? Who was I, to share her life? I knew Priestess as well as everyone else in Beta—I knew what made her go. She deserved something better than me. But it was not as if we had any choice. I felt like a Peeping Tom. I feared I didn't deserve her. I was cheating someone—the Gods were asleep.
I eased out of bed. It was freezing. A cold, slick floor. I reached the window; why had we left it open? A cold dawn, a soft wet breeze, grey clouds close overhead. A stunning view. We were in a large medmod perched on a rocky hill overlooking a forested valley, a black forest wreathed in grey mist. A dark dawn, for the Legion. This was our S & S, waiting for a mission. I shivered again; I could taste the moisture in the air. Beta would be together again, soon.
I could feel only fear, thinking of tomorrow. Our E's were propped against the wall. I did not know what we would face, but I knew it would be bad.
###
Breakfast was on the patio, open to the morning. Breakfast in the clouds. The forest below was wreathed in mystery, and the jagged rocks of our hill cut through cold grey waves of mist. I felt totally alive, breathing in the new day, setting my tray down gently on the long table we had chosen for the squad. Priestess was beside me, all in black. The patio was filling up with wounded soldiers. The medmod was a recovery facility. A lot of walkers from Andrion 3 were here—survivors. We were survivors, too. Some of us had not even been hit, but we were just as wounded as the rest. The Legion had dropped us here, anxious, perhaps, for a little mental healing before the next ordeal. I suppose we had to wait somewhere, and this was as good as anyplace else.
"Thinker, what do you think?" It was Ironman, Beta Seven, our first casualty. He had missed all the fun on Coldmark and Planet Three. He was clothed in a sleeveless sweater, seated at our table, holding both arms out for my inspection.
"They look the same," I responded. It was the truth; both arms were pale and well muscled. Ironman was a lifter.
He was a little guy, very young, with fine, clean features and a fantastic build. He had always been proud of his body.
Ironman smiled, a flash of white. His long brown hair hung over his eyes. "I've been doing a lot of lifting, trying to get them the same," he said. "Doesn't the right still look bigger?"
"That's a twelve—they're the same, Ironman. Relax—stop worrying, Morning Light won't care. After all, it was only an arm. You're lucky it wasn't something she really cared about."
Ironman grinned shyly and lapsed into silence, picking at his breakfast. He was a good kid, quiet and easily embarrassed. He had been the first one in Beta to pick up a Taka girlfriend. Morning Light adored him.
Ironman's left arm had been blown away in our assault, but the Legion had grown him a new one, and it looked perfectly good to me. Morning Light wouldn't care, that was sure. Ironman had not seen her since arriving here from Atom. It made him a bit more fidgety than norms.