Psycho banged his tray down, grinning foolishly, looking around wildly, taking in the scene. "Another beautiful day! I could get to like it here. The room service is especially good!"
Psycho always annoyed me. I'm not sure why—he was a good soldier, but he just rubbed me the wrong way. He was always shooting his mouth off. He could just walk into the room, and I would start to burn.
"So where is she?" I asked.
"Where is who?"
"Your room service. Didn't she stay the night?"
Psycho laughed, popping the cap on his tray. "The lady has a responsible position in this medical facility. She can't be seen hanging about with an animal like me. Bad for the image, you know—highly unpro. But she is smitten—totally smitten—I assure you." He giggled, and tore into his medrats. I didn't like the part about "highly unpro."
Psycho was a lot sharper than he pretended to be. Priestess and I tried to be discreet, but it would have only taken a call to her cube to ascertain that she had not been there last night. Five had wanted Priestess's body for a long time, but it was a lost cause. Priestess glanced at me. I decided to let it drop. Next time I'd go to Priestess's cube.
"Morning, gang." It was Snow Leopard, fresh and alert, pale blond hair combed carefully back, hot pink eyes darting around the table. Gamma One was right behind him, Boudicca, the Bitch from Hell, short red hair and cold grim face. I wondered if they had spent the night together, but I did not really care. They were a strange pair. I could not imagine what Snow Leopard saw in her.
They sat down at our table. Snow Leopard was quiet. He concentrated on his breakfast, barely looking at Boudicca. Boudicca was brooding, and I could see the ghosts flash over her features. Gamma One was a walker, if anyone was. Her squad had been almost annihilated on Planet Three by the Omnis. But she had been crazy long before Gamma hit Planet Three. Anyone nutty enough to have a Legion cross burnt onto her forehead had a serious death wish. I remembered her on Coldmark, slaughtering a priest just like a pig. Boudicca scared me. I did not know what the O's had done to her mind, but I knew I did not want to be anywhere near her on our next drop.
"It's not bad here." Warhound appeared happy, savoring his dox, taking in the morning, his pale eyes content. He had a rugged face, deep-set eyes, and a short, severe haircut. "Not bad at all. Considerably better than Andrion 3, huh, Thinker?"
"That's a ten, Warhound." We had almost lost Warhound in the Omni base. It was a holy miracle that we got him back. I could still see him, slashing at that Omni with a cold knife. That picture was burnt into my memory circuits for all time. Warhound was a simple kid, but he was a lot more than I had thought, a lot more than a good soldier. He had saved us all, I was convinced.
"Morning." It was Valkyrie, a pale blonde goddess, approaching the table with her tray. Deadman's death! I shot to my feet reflexively, shocked to the heart. Valkyrie, my old flame, had a black Legion cross burnt right onto her lovely forehead. She glanced at me once, vaguely curious, emerald eyes cold. Then she sat down next to Boudicca. Everyone at the table gaped at her, stunned. Boudicca looked her over, and a hard smile slowly appeared. Boudicca raised a fist, wordlessly. Valkyrie returned the gesture and they struck fists. Valkyrie looked into Boudicca's eyes, but her face was cold and distant. She was gone, I knew—gone at last. The girl I had known so well was no longer here. She was out there with Gamma One now, way out on point.
I slowly sat down again, guiltily. Priestess was glaring at me, cold and furious. I had done it again. Valkyrie was my addiction. I'd have to get over her, somehow.
###
The sky was falling! I clapped my hands to my ears and opened my mouth. There had been no warning. One instant we were lounging on a pile of dropboxes and the next instant a catastrophic explosion, a thunderous roar, split the sky.
The air shuddered and vibrations ran up through our boots. I cringed. The agonizing shriek continued, full-throttle, shattering the afternoon. Our eyes went to the source—a Legion fighter parked some distance off, a massive slab of blackened metal, raw blue-white flame pulsing out the burners. The pilot eased back on the throttle, and the nuclear thunder faded. We were at Farside Base, awaiting word on our mission, clad in litesuits, comtops at our waists, carrying our E's, our pitiful personal possessions stowed away in our fieldpaks.
The pilot hit the throttle again, and the earth shook.
He wasn't going anywhere—he was probably just testing the engines. Beta and Gamma went crazy. I could hear nothing except the blast, but the troops were shouting and gesturing, clawing at each other in excitement. Psycho silently screamed, a lunatic grin, waving his Manlink above his head.
Ironman had his arms outstretched, his mouth open. Warhound stared at the fighter in rapt fascination, raising his E unconsciously. Priestess gripped my arm strongly, her face fierce and proud, eyes riveted on the fighter. I clenched my teeth as the power filled the air and the vibes ran all over my body. Boudicca stood on top of a stack of metal dropboxes, facing the thunder, her face gleaming. Valkyrie was below her, shrieking something, her lovely features transformed into a frightening mask. Scrapper had her eyes closed, one hand on her chest. Sassin was chanting something, probably a Cyrillian war song, eyes wild, doing a lunatic dance with his Manlink. It was like a fierce troop of apes, answering the thunder of the Gods.
A series of short, sharp explosions. Then the thunder faded, again. I could hear the troops now, hysterical.
"Hit it!"
"Burn 'em up!"
"Git some for me!"
"Louder! Louder!"
"Hit it!"
A banshee howl from Psycho, eyes glazed. He looked like he was set to fire his Manlink for sheer joy. Priestess turned to me, a faint smile. A shiver ran over her body. Ironman laughed, delighted. The thunder faded and stopped. A shocked silence filtered back over the dusty spaceport. We settled back onto the dropboxes, waiting for Beta One. E's and comtops, and my life in a fieldpak. That was the Legion. I could carry everything I owned. I didn't imagine it was ever going to change. I gazed blankly at my E, and wondered where we were going.
"Here's Beta!" An aircar glided up in a cloud of red dust and the doors popped open and Snow Leopard stepped out, his E strapped to his chest. His face was pale and set, expressionless. He paused before us, his cold pink eyes flickering over every trooper.
"Right, we've got a mission. Listen up." Snow Leopard never raised his voice. We strained to catch every word. He paused to take a long sip of water from his canteen. Then he looked up at the sky.
"Say goodbye to Andrion 2," he said. "We lift within the hour. Target will be revealed after we're underway. There's not much more I can say at this point. Except it's not going to be a picnic. And I don't want anyone to have any illusions. We're not coming back unless we accomplish the mission. And I aim to accomplish the mission." He was cold and calm, completely under control. I knew him well enough to understand that he was deeply troubled.
"Are we going in under-strength?" Warhound asked. Snow Leopard had promised that the squad would be reunited.
"That's a twelve," Snow Leopard responded. "We'll be over-strength. Two and Four and Eight and Ten will be with us—they're fully recovered." A muted cheer rippled through the squad. "And in addition, we'll have Gamma attached to us." Silence greeted the last statement. Left unsaid was what function Gamma One would be performing. I no longer trusted her judgment. I remembered a fat, half-naked priest, arms over his head, and Boudicca switching to xmin, cold and calm, and the priest's blood, splattering all over my A-suit.