As we walked through the dust, Uldo's sun rose higher and higher, but it was only a vague glow behind the grey clouds. We kept the airsat on our left. I hoped there were no more of them lurking up ahead. Getting trapped between two of them would be most unhealthy.
###
"Anybody got any dog vomit?" Psycho asked. We were huddled in a tangle of wreckage inside a blown-out squadmod, taking a quick break for lunch. We had our visors up and freezing air was turning our noses and lips blue as we wolfed down our rations.
"Yeah," Dragon responded. "I've got one that I'm saving for tomorrow. You taking a survey, or what?"
"Give you two bat guano for it."
Dragon laughed. "You're a funny guy."
"I haven't finished! Two bat guano and a depth charge. Aw right?"
"I really like the DV," Dragon said.
"So do I. What do you want for it?"
"You got a sister?"
I tuned out. "Priestess," I whispered. "Look what I got." She sat beside me silently staring into space, an empty ratpack in one hand. I passed her a doxcup and popped it open. The rich aroma rolled over us.
"Dox!" Her eyes sparkled and an angelic smile transformed her face. It was so lovely that my heart just ached for her. She took a sip with trembling hands. It was so hot it burnt her lips. "You're a magician, Thinker. I love it!"
"Aw right, who's been hoarding the dox? Thinker, you scut!" Psycho was outraged.
"Don't badmouth my man," Priestess said. "He's just bought my soul with this dox."
"Thinker, I'll trade you two bat guano for a dox."
"Some mission, huh, Thinker?" It was Merlin, resting with his back up against a crumpled bulkhead, spooning up his rations. "Remember Mongera?"
"A memorable vacation," I replied.
"I never thought we'd get out alive," Merlin said. "I thought we were all cooked for sure." Merlin had survived Mongera without a scratch. It was miraculous, but he deserved it, after losing both legs on Coldmark. I had gotten through Coldmark all right but had lost an arm and a large chunk of my hide on Mongera. The Legion had grown it all back for me, just like Merlin's new legs. If you stayed in the Legion long enough, you could eventually become entirely artificial. There were some people like that, still walking around pretending to be human. You could generally tell by the things they said—they were seriously crazy.
"What are our chances for this one, Merlin?" I asked. It started to snow—wet snow sifted softly down through the gaps in the roof of the squadmod and evaporated on our armor.
"Snow—just what we need," Psycho said.
Merlin put his ratpack down and looked up at the shredded ceiling. "Technically, we're in much better shape this time, Thinker," he said. "We know how to kill the O's now, and we didn't last time. But it's going to depend on what we meet—and how many of them."
Merlin sounded so casual, so matter of fact—as if he had been killing O's all his life. It was truly miraculous. He had embraced death on Mongera; he had almost thrown his life away for Beta, for us all. I would never forget it. Mongera had changed us all.
"You've studied the O's, Merlin—what motivates them?" I knew that nobody knew the answer to that, but I respected Merlin's opinions.
"I think their motivations may be similar to ours. They are an aggressive, expanding power. They're migrating, hungry for new worlds, and as oxygen breathers, they want our worlds. They're an ancient race, with awesome psychic abilities that we cannot match. It appears so far that the differences between human and O are so great they cannot be bridged. The Systies tried and failed. We've never even tried—it's hard to get to know somebody who's trying to kill you."
"But we're making progress, aren't we, Merlin?" Dragon asked. "I mean we've learned a lot. We know how to kill them now. And we're still superior ship to ship."
"Yes—by Legion standards we're making progress. You know, there are some very important points about the O's that people tend to forget. For one thing, their technology is static. Their ships, their tactics, their weapons—it's all exactly the same now as it was hundreds of years ago. When we first met the O's, we lost—always. They were irresistible. Then, finally, we learned how to take on and defeat their star fleets. That ended the Plague War, and gave us a little breathing space. Until now, it was the only advantage we had. Their psypower insured we could not defeat them once they gained a foothold on a planet's surface."
"All right, so their technology is static. That's good," Dragon said.
"I'm not so sure. I worry about that. I worry a lot about it. You see, they're not responding to us. You'd think if we improve our tactics and start blowing away their ships, that they'd respond with something new. But they don't. They don't respond at all. We get a lot of their ships but they keep coming, just like before. It's almost as if we're not worth bothering about."
"What do you mean, Merlin?"
"Look at their tactics. They shower a target world with ships—hundreds of them. The ships discharge hordes of O's. The O's split up and wander all over the place, slaughtering everyone they see until the opposition ceases. Then they round up the survivors. But there's no grand strategy, there's no coordination. It's just individual O's, doing their own thing, and we can't stop a single one and eventually they take the whole planet."
"But they are organized," I objected. "They're more advanced than we are. They've got starships, bases, cities maybe."
"Yes, but look at how they fight us. One by one. Doesn't that scare you?"
"Scare me? It would scare me if it wasn't one by one!"
"Wrong, Thinker. Wrong. Think about it. I've said it before. They're not taking us seriously, they're not organized. We're a minor inconvenience to them. We're pests, to be swatted. If we ever really annoy them, they may decide to respond appropriately. Then we'll be in serious trouble. And our offensive, right here, right now, may be just the thing."
"Are you saying they're not fighting us?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying. We've been fighting them, for hundreds of years, but they haven't really noticed. That's scary as hell to me."
It was a bad thought. I looked up. It was snowing heavier now, the flakes landing right on my face. The air was icy cold and pure.
"Well, when Mother gets through with them, they'll know they've been in a fight—I guarantee it." Psycho examined his Manlink. She was his mistress, cold and silent and absolutely deadly. He loved her, without shame.
"Where do they come from, Merlin?" I asked.
"They're from so far away that we cannot imagine it," he replied. "From far back in time, from the very edge of the galaxy, from a blackened cinder circling a dead star, lost in a cosmic catastrophe. Now the whole race is on the move, and they're not going to let it happen again."
"That's pretty good," I said. Merlin didn't know, of course. Nobody knew—not even after all this time. Their starships detonated, antimat, whenever we hit one. We had no idea where they came from.
"Their genetics are somewhat similar to ours," Merlin continued, "believe it or not. They evidently consume human hemoglobin, and probably flesh as well. Nobody knows for sure. But they certainly take a lot of prisoners."
"Thanks, Merlin. I needed that," I said wearily.
"Everybody tenners here?" Snow Leopard stepped in from outside, his faceplate visor up. He was pale as death but his pink eyes were alive—I think I trusted him more than anyone I'd ever known.
"Yeah, we're fine."
"Don't get too comfortable. We'll be moving out in a few marks." He slumped against a shredded bulkhead, staring into space.
"How's Fourteen doing?" Dragon asked. Speedy was outside, with the others.
"Merlin, you were close to him, weren't you?" Snow Leopard asked.