"The Legion has taken your ship, Tara. Are they going to execute you? You can surely tell me that."
Her dark eyes smouldered briefly. "I can take care of myself, Wester. They were going to kill me and all my crew, when they captured us. But they didn't. Perhaps it would be best if you thought of me as being dead already. Yes—maybe she is dead, maybe Tara is only a memory, just like that boy Wester. But I can tell you this much, Beta Three. I've got plenty of names and I can assure you that Cintana Tamaling is very much alive, and she's going to be watching over you when you're downside. You can depend on that." She turned abruptly and faded into the dark. A hatch hissed open, and she was a shadow, outlined against the light. "Good luck, Beta Three," she called out softly. "Good luck." And then she was gone.
###
A Legion interceptor delivered our Systies, in great secrecy, in the pit of the vac, endless light years from nowhere. There was no hint where the interceptor had come from. We were definitely in Systie vac by then, and getting closer and closer to Mongera. Whatever the Systies were supposed to teach us about the O's, they would not have much time. Not that it mattered to me. I had already decided I was not going to be listening.
"Leave your weapons outside, Badboy. Delta will babysit." Snow Leopard made the announcement, his face pale and grim. Whatever was on the other side of that door was bad news. A couple of Delta troopers stood by with E's. We propped our weapons against the corridor wall. Delta was at the bridge and would watch over the Cyrillians. There was nobody in the conference room except the Systies.
"You sure they're unarmed, One?" Coolhand whispered.
"They're unarmed—but you're not going to like it. Nobody's going to like it. Right, Badboy! File in and take your seats! Go in there and sit down and shut down! You hear me? I want you to act like a Legion squad—keep your traps shut!" Snow Leopard's face was flushed, his hot pink eyes glaring at us.
I noticed One's mini was still holstered at his waist. We filed in.
There were three of them, dressed in STRATCOM red, Systie silver and SIS green, sitting together calmly at a large conference table. A huge Mocain soldier, tall, shaved bald, well-muscled, pale greenish skin, flashing dark eyes, no eyebrows. Another Mocain, a female, as pale as death, short military hair, speckled, mottled skin, her face in shadows, as still as a statue. The third was an Outworlder, slender and wiry, shaved skull, blinking nervously. It was all wrong, and warnings were going off in my mind. I paused before an airchair. Then I realized what it was. The girl, dressed in SIS green—there was a huge purple scar at her throat, and ugly shrapnel splotches all over her face. It was that Mocain bitch, what was her name—Millina! She had taken Valkyrie, and almost killed us all on Coldmark. Merlin had lost his legs in that raid. We had rescued Valkyrie, but had failed to recover Millina…we had thought she was dead, but here she was, cold green flesh, sitting right there.
And the Outworlder! It was that simpering, fast-talking diplomat we had captured on Andrion 3, right in the Omni's starport. He was scared of his own shadow, and terrified of the O's. These creeps were going to teach us about the O's?
No, this was not going to work.
Beta and Gamma filed around the table, but nobody sat down. We stared at the Systies. Valkyrie turned pale, locked on to the Mocain female like an E on laser. Her lovely mouth snapped open in a savage snarl. Boudicca seized her arm, but Boudicca was also glaring at Millina, the blood rushing to her face.
"It's that Systie dip!" A hoarse whisper from Psycho.
"It's the bitch!" Boudicca exclaimed. "That Mocain bitch! Scut, I thought we killed her!"
"It's not too late…" Valkyrie trembled, leaning forward, both hands on the table, and it looked as if she was going to climb right onto the table and throw herself at the Mocain. Boudicca grabbed her by the shoulder to hold her back. The tall Mocain soldier stood up, and Snow Leopard appeared by his side.
"Silence!" Snow Leopard shouted. "Badboy, be seated! I want silence!" He was furious, his face bright red.
"Can it not control its own units, squad leader?" The Mocain soldier was openly contemptuous, speaking Inter with a thick Mocain accent. He was dressed in STRATCOM red.
"Take your seats, gang," Coolhand quietly ordered. We obeyed. I think it was a combination of Coolhand's low-key tone and the contempt displayed by the Mocain. We were not at all pleased by this development. Valkyrie was just barely under control; Boudicca was still holding her back.
"Do you recognize me, Millina?" Valkyrie called out. There was no stopping her. Millina blinked her cold reptilian eyes and focused on Valkyrie. She gazed at her for a few fracs, her face cold and set.
"Legion," she at last concluded. "It's our Legion. Yes…yes, we see you now. You've changed a little. We like the cross. Yes, it suits you!"
"I'm sorry you didn't die, Millina."
"Yes, we know. You're a lot stronger now than when we first met, Legion. We think we were good for you—don't you?" A faint smile appeared.
I could hardly believe it.
"I'm not good for you, Millina," Valkyrie replied. "You'd better keep your distance." She twitched, pale and sweating.
I knew if Valkyrie had her E that would have been one dead Mocain.
"All right, blackout," Snow Leopard ordered. "So now we all know. Some of you have met Systie Cit Millina, of STRATCOM Information, on Coldmark. Others have met Systie Cit V-Four Carollus, of the diplomatic service of the United System Alliance, on Andrion 3. Colonel Calgan of the Fifteenth DefCorps is new to us all. Millina and Carollus we met under very trying circumstances, for us all. But that was the past. The past is dead and gone—maybe some of you have heard those words." Snow Leopard paused, and looked up at the ceiling. His eyes glowed, and his voice was hypnotic.
"I'd like you to think about that. We are engaged in a great historical event—we are soldiers of the future, and we're walking point for our race. This is no ordinary mission—it requires great courage to set aside the past and step into the future. It requires courage and faith. Faith in the Legion, faith in your leaders, faith in your comrades, faith in yourselves. I know we can do it, Badboy. These people have lived with the O's; they know their capabilities. They know exactly what the O's can do. And they're going to tell us all about it. I want you to put aside the past, and open your ears and your minds, and listen to what they have to say. It might—it just might—save our lives. They're coming with us, downside. Unarmed. That says something, Badboy. We must cooperate—we must. Together, we can defeat the O's. The Gods of History are watching us—right now. We have a great responsibility, and we will prove equal to the challenge—we will!"
Beta One was a visionary. When he got onto the subject of history, it was all over. He was convinced he was a direct participant in momentous events, and we were his squad. We were all going down in history, whether we wanted to or not. I always enjoyed listening to him, and I often wondered whether he was right. But it was truly wonderful, knowing that our leader had such great faith in his cause. He had enough faith for us all.
"Is it trying to convince its own units to obey it, squad leader?" the Mocain Colonel asked. "Why doesn't it just order them to do what it wants?" He seemed vaguely amused by One's speech.
"My units—as you call them—will do exactly as I say," Snow Leopard replied. "If I ask them to shoot you through the forehead, they will do so. If I ask them to safeguard your life, they will do so. What you do not understand is that the Legion is composed of free volunteers. There's not one Legionnaire who hasn't chosen to be here. And we like to tell them what they're fighting for."