The Systie Colonel laughed. "Is it telling us its troopers are in the Legion of their own free will?"
"Is that so hard to comprehend?"
"It is hard to believe. But let us not argue. We have much to tell it about the Variants. Let us begin. Each of us has something to contribute. We all spent a very long time on Andrion 3, under the power of the V. We will brief it on what we know of their military capabilities. Cit Millina will brief it on the V's psychic powers. Cit Carollus will brief it on what we know about the V's decision-making processes. Together, we believe we can prepare Legion to face the V—or the Omnis, as it calls them. Then, it will be up to Legion. We do not know how to kill the V—but we can tell it everything we learned."
Dragon grimaced. He looked over at me and slowly shook his head. Dragon was not buying it either. We would listen, but we were not going to be easy to convince. As the Systie Colonel droned on, my mind drifted away. Priestess sat off to my left, an angel in a litesuit, blinking dark wet eyes. What was she doing here? A volunteer—yes, she was a volunteer, just as One had said. We were all volunteers, immortal fools, walking death's dark road. Mongera grew closer every frac, and all we could do was wait for it, and prepare.
Chapter 10:
Mongera
Mongera Port, this is P.S. Maiden, exiting stardrive and requesting port clearance. We are here to evacuate refugees in response to its regional nova. Please give us a sitrep on the starport and vicinity." Cintana Tamaling was cool and efficient, once more in charge, sitting in the command chair. Her first officer, Whitney, was beside her in the exec's chair, cruising on mags, quiet and calm. Snow Leopard and I huddled with Delta One just out of view of the d-screens. The idea was to keep an eye on the slavers.
The main screen flickered and filled with light. A Mocain officer appeared, his faintly green skin covered with a tracery of pale white scars. His suspicious eyes focused on the screen under naked brows. Identification data from the P.S. Maiden filled his databloc and hopefully matched up with the registration data in his files. The officer would be viewing two young females on his screen. The Commander was a stunningly beautiful creature with pale brown skin and lustrous auburn hair. The exec was a pale blonde, as cool as ice. The biotech should have been flashing confirmation of the genetic ID—this was the P.S. Maiden, and these were the principal officers.
"P.S. Maiden, this is Mongera Port. It has port clearance. The port is secure. Appreciate its assistance. Request it hard-land inport. Mongera Port is our evacuation center. We are sending it landing data."
"Negative, Mongera," Tara replied briskly. "We will not risk our ship downside. We will do the evacs with our shuttle, call sign Highroad, repeat Highroad. Please note we are a commercial firm and will be charging a fee for this service. We are sending it our price list, terms, and guarantees. We will be happy to evac everyone we can carry."
Delta One was just out of view of the main screen, a shadow with an E. He was a young trooper with long black hair; dark tanned skin; and alert, wary eyes. He'd be in charge on the ship when we were downside.
"P.S. Maiden, this is Zemband Station! We are surrounded and need evac fast! The skies are clear—request its shuttle land here, please send us its terms."
"P.S. Maiden, this is Century City main aircar terminal! We request extraction right now! We'll pay whatever it wants! Just get here quick! We've got over seven hundred people here and no more aircars!"
"P.S. Maiden, this is the Cairnsport Police. We have a group of two thousand refugees on the move in darkside—we're sending it our zero. These are women and children, Maiden! The V are closing in, and the military can't help us. It is our last hope, Maiden. We'll give it everything we have! Please don't abandon us!"
"P.S. Maiden, land at the National Trust Commercial Center in Torrens City. We're a group of bankers and lawyers, treacherously abandoned by the military. We'll pay twice what it's asking! Its highest profits are right here! We're sending it our zero."
"P.S. Maiden, our town is cut off and our aircars are all gone! This is Forest Hill—we're a squad-sized DefCorps unit and the V are cutting us to pieces. Maiden, the schools were never evaced! All of the children are still here, and the V are closing in! Maiden, there are hundreds of children here! We can't pay it. Just save the children, Maiden. Please! We're willing to die. Just save the children! We're sending it our zero."
"This is Mongera Port! Clear this channel! P.S. Maiden, its shuttle is cleared to land at Mongera Port—we have hundreds of thousands of refugees processed for evac, right here. We'll meet its terms."
"Sounds like the bankers and lawyers have got it," Whit said with a faint smile. "We guess we could call this a profit-rich environment."
Tara was silent but she was in a white-hot rage—I knew her well. She cut the commo and turned to us. "Are you people ready?"
Snow Leopard picked up his E. "Keep an eye on things here, Delta."
"You watch yourself, Beta."
"Death." Snow Leopard and I started to move out. Whit got up from her chair. Tara ignored me. She looked up at Whit.
"Take care of the Highroad, Whit. It's the only shuttle we've got." Tara avoided her eyes.
"Yeah, we love Cit too, Commander. We'll be careful."
"Sub will be fine, Whit," Tara said carefully. "Don't worry."
###
"Helmets on! Tac mode! Systems check!" A cool green glow bathed the interior of my helmet. All systems were ten high. Beta One lowered himself into the aircar from the overhead escape hatch. He was metalman, a great dull black soldier-ant, studded with antennae and weapons. We were all in A-suits. I checked my E. It glowed with life and death—this was a special E, as special as you could get. All the twisted dark science the Legion lab rats could cook up was in that E. It was a very nasty bag of tricks and if this didn't work, there was nothing left except to say our prayers.
"Seal the car."
"Shuttle prepped for launch."
"Badboy, Delta, all secure." Our aircar was poised in a launch tube in the belly of the shuttle, the Highroad. The other tube housed Cinta's personal aircar. Two of Delta's best were riding the shuttle, watching the pilot and the crew. The Maiden's exec, Whitney, was piloting the shuttle, and she was bringing a few Cyrillians to help with the refugees. All of Badboy—Beta and Gamma—were packed into the aircar, along with the three Systies.
"Just another drop, gang." Coolhand was in a good mood—he was always a calming influence.
"Keep your safeties on, Psycho, or this is going to be a very short trip." Warhound sat behind a manport atlauncher, modified to counter the O's psypower. He sounded a bit nervous, with good reason. Psycho grinned back at him through his faceplate. He was burdened with a massive weapons system, a heavy chainlink skysweep attached to a backpack shoulder rig. Quadruple ammopaks were strapped to his back. The chainlink was normally mounted in Legion fighters. In addition, Psycho had a specially modified manlink secured to his chestplate. He was a walking arsenal, a city buster. We hoped it would bust the O as well, but there was only one way to find out.
"Separation!" A heavy metallic explosion rang through the aircar and we were falling, hearts in our throats, stomachs floating, falling down into the dark. The shuttle had separated from the Maiden and was carrying us down to our fate.
"Good luck, Whit."
"On course, Badboy."
"Omni ships continue combat tracks last reported. Looks like another Starfleet attack shaping up."