Our son was lovely as a morning star, so beautiful he looked like a little girl, and Moontouch would not cut his hair. "He is my king," she said, "my little king, and Southmark's future. He is the Golden Sword, returned. He is the sunrise of our race." She had named him Stormdawn, for Taka legend told of a King who would reclaim Southmark's heritage in a battle fought in a storm, at dawn.
He played with us in that magical tent, and slept with us at night. It was like paradise to me, after Katag and Uldo, after the march and the Mound and the Ship. And it seemed to me that this was what life should be—just to be with those you loved, to have a peaceful life with your family. It was an alien concept. But I knew that billions of people in ConFree, on Legion worlds, lived lives like that, lives free of fear. And I knew it was only because of the Legion that they could. It all came down to justice—our obsession. That's all the Legion was about—simple justice. Justice, and death.
I would wake in the night in a hot sweat, dreaming of Beta Nine. My message to Beta remained unanswered, and there was no news from Uldo. The galaxy was at war and there would be no announcements about Uldo until the situation was clear. I suppose I was secretly relieved that I did not know the truth. The faces of the dead were etched onto my knuckles, and I did not want to add Priestess to my collection. She stayed with me every moment—a phantom.
She was my fate, my future, my heart. If she was gone I would die inside and live on, a dead immortal. There were plenty of them, in the Legion—people with miniature faces all over their hands and fingers and the cross of the Legion burnt onto their foreheads. I prayed Priestess was alive—I prayed to Moontouch's strange Gods, and I asked her to pray too, for my lost comrades. We lit incense and candles for prehistoric Gods.
Gildron joined us, and he brought Willard, and Willard played with Stormdawn in our tent. Deadeye took charge of Gildron, and the Taka swarmed around him—never had they seen such a mighty warrior. They tested him with their best, and he swept them aside like annoying insects, snapping their spears with his bare hands. In no time at all, his fan club was larger than my own.
Tara did not come. She was busy on the Omni ship assisting the Legion. I did not think she wanted to meet Moontouch.
A Legion battlestar had arrived, the Armageddon, and disgorged an army of techs and science brains onto the Omni ship. We had done all we could. Now it was in the hands of the Gods.
I knew I would have to leave Moontouch. I didn't even try to fool myself about that. I certainly loved her but it was a love both fierce and futile, a love with no future.
There was something I had to do before I left. I took out the medkit one night after Stormdawn and Willard were asleep and Moontouch and I were alone on the pillows, under a tent that was swaying gently in a light, cool breeze.
"I told you our son is immortal," I said in Taka.
"I accept your word, my King," Moontouch replied.
"He will never die of age, but only if he is killed by his enemies, or by the Gods."
"He is a son of the stars. Our immortal!" She was prouder of him than anything else—he was her obsession.
"Would you like to become an immortal as well?" I asked her.
She looked at me carefully, blinking smoky eyes. "To live forever?"
"To live forever—and forever young. You would never age. You would stay just as you are, young and beautiful, forever."
"You can do this?"
"Easily."
"You will leave me. Soon."
"Yes. I will. I must. I will never see you again—or my son. I love you both, but the Gods will take me away—forever."
"Then perhaps I should die."
"You must choose. If you become an immortal, everyone you love will grow old and die—except for your son."
"And if I do not?"
"He will watch you grow old and die—just as any other son."
"And his children?"
"Immortal."
"And his wife?"
"Mortal. She will age, and die."
"His heart will die, of grief." She looked up to the silken roof of the tent, and her eyes were far away. "I must stay with him. He is the future of our world—I must stay with him!"
"Are you certain? I cannot undo it, once it is done."
"I am certain, my King. How else can I find you again?"
"You must not say that—you must forget me."
"Yes—and forget the stars and the sun and the rain. And forget our only son. Make me an immortal—I will cry for a thousand years, and then set forth to find you, again."
"Don't even think it! Give me your arm."
She thrust one slim arm at me, angrily. I ripped open the plasmapak—my fingers shook. I pressed it against her flesh and it found a vein and lit up. She looked right at me, and I avoided her eyes. The blood of the Legion squirted into her veins—golden blood, a slight improvement on God's work, courtesy of our unholy lifies. We were all insane, I thought. Immortality only prolonged our suffering. But I couldn't leave her behind to die like an animal.
###
"Alpha Station comlink, this is unit Seven Zero Three. Any word on my tracer to Uldo?" I called them four times a day—sometimes more.
"That's a twelve, Seven Zero Three. Sorry! We'll contact you as soon as we get a message."
"Yeah. I know. Thanks. Seven Zero Three out." I slipped the comset back onto my u-belt. It was a bright, clear, cool morning—I stood outside the tent. Moontouch and Stormdawn were still asleep. From the ruins of Stonehall, I had a magnificent view of God's Garden in all its glory, spreading to a misty horizon.
Deadeye approached, armed with a stabbing spear. He was always close at hand with his soldiers.
"Death, Slayer!" He had picked up some Legion terminology.
"Death, Deadeye. A good night?"
"A quiet night, Slayer. Our enemies lick their wounds."
"How about the exosegs?"
"We still pursue them, Slayer. We lead the Legion to their nests. There are millions of them, still. But we fear them no more. Your people have saved our world, Slayer. We are with the Legion, to the death."
I knew he meant it literally. The exoseg swarm had terrorized this world until we dropped from the skies to change history.
"And the Soldiers of God?" I asked.
"The Legion captured the Hand of God not long after you left. When they were through with him, they let us have him. We gave him a sword, to let him die with dignity. But he did not die with dignity."
"The Gods willed it."
"Yes. Your Gods are the same as ours."
We lapsed into silence, enjoying the faint breeze and the view. Deadeye's warriors were camped all around us. It was not a very disciplined army, but they were good auxiliaries. We called them "airmobile rabble" at one point when ferrying them around the planet. They were tough, fearless little bastards, and had been invaluable in breaking the power of the Cult of the Dead and the Soldiers of God.
My comset squawked suddenly. "Wester! They're back!" I snatched at it.
"What? Tara—who's back?" The comset screeched and crackled, then went dead.
"Tara! Answer! What's the sit?" I shouted. Moontouch came out of the tent, blinking.
"What is it, my King?"
"I don't know," I said. The set squawked again, a babble of voices, the sharp crack of E's firing, then silence. I could feel my blood pressure rising. She was in the ship—she must still be in the Omni ship!
"Tara, Tara, Wester, answer!"
"Wester, it's…" She was cut off in mid-sentence.