"Good duty here," Valkyrie said, "you don't even get your boots dirty."
"I know this work," Merlin said. "You sip dox and offer advice to people who are dying. It's nice work if you like it." Snow Leopard was talking with an officer at the command desk, determining our fate.
"Scope out that opmap, guys," I said. "See if you can find Corin." Corin was our jump-off point, a city that had been in the path of the Omni advance. Now it was in the path of the Legion advance, and the future did not look good for that particular city.
"Look at all those units!" Merlin exclaimed. "Those are regiments of the Twenty-Second—look! The Tenth, the Twelfth, the Sixty-Eighth, the Fifty-First! Deadman!"
"Corin is over there," Valkyrie pointed. "On the left, by that river." I could see it—our own regiment, the 12th, was closing on it. Antimats winked and faded on the screen.
"Do you think we'll win?" Valkyrie asked, gazing blankly at the screens.
"We're ready for them," Merlin said confidently. "I don't see how they can counter the new generation of weapons, weapons designed specifically to kill O's. The O's are very powerful because of their psypower. But they're slow to change. We can counter the psypower now. And look at their tactics—they don't have any! They've never had tactics! It's just individual O's, wandering around killing anything that moves."
"I've never understood that."
"Don't feel alone. I tell you, if the O's ever really get organized, we'll be in terminal trouble!"
"Control, our mission has been compromised!" A voice crackled with static from a nearby console.
"Red Opal, Control—please provide details." The Mission Coordinator hunched over the d-screen. He looked like a brand new recruit.
There was silence from the console. The trooper entered some data into the system.
"We're under attack!" The console crackled again. I could hear the shriek of tacstars in the background.
"Red Opal, Control. Do you require extraction?" There was no response. Only silence, from Red Opal.
"Let's go." Snow Leopard had finished his business.
"Tenners." I wondered about Red Opal, but I knew we'd never learn the ending. We straggled out of the squadmod and into the cold, dark corridor. Our aircar was waiting, assault doors open. The whole squad was there. We climbed in, and I found a seat next to the new girl, Beta Thirteen.
"Everything tenners?" I asked her.
"Oh! Um, fine…" she seemed startled by my question. She was blushing, I suddenly realized, and avoiding my eyes. Great, I thought, she can't even talk. Hope she can shoot, at least. The aircar doors slammed shut and we shot forward along the shadowy earthen corridors of Uldo Milbase, emergency lights glaring from the dripping ceilings, our aircar trailing a shock wave of icy, muddy spray. Redhawk hit the sounds and the latest ionic music blasted through the car.
"You missed those guys, Redhawk!"
"Look at that! He's giving us the bird!"
"All right, gang," Snow Leopard said. "We're off to the armor shop, to get Cinta and Gildron fitted for A-suits. We're all going to get our suits checked as well. If anyone has any problems with your armor, this is your last chance before we hit the death zone. Are you listening, Psycho?"
"Yes sir! That's a tenners!"
"What did I say?"
"Last chance for Cinta and the monkey to get their armor fixed!"
"Somebody tell Psycho," Snow Leopard said wearily.
"So how did you like Hell?" I asked the new girl.
"Oh, we didn't go there," she said. "We did the field tests on Veltros."
"They didn't send you to Hell?" I was astounded. "But they send everyone there!"
"Not any more," she said. "They said it was too expensive, and out-dated. Primitivist, they said."
"Primitivist?"
"It's a new Legion, Sir. And they had to cut down on the training cycle, because of the war."
"The name's Thinker," I said. "Not 'sir'."
"Yes sir. Uh…sorry."
Primitivist! A new Legion! Unbelievable.
"Well, how were the—ah—field tests?" I asked her.
"Exhausting, sir. Oh! I'm sorry…Thinker. They walked us almost to death. I'm in good shape, sir. Oh! Sorry."
"Exhausting, huh?" Exhaustion had been the least of our problems in Hell. Potentially fatal dangers, constant terror, hate and resentment, thirst and hunger had all been a lot higher on the list for us.
"Priestess, I need some medical help." It was Psycho.
"What is it, Five?" Priestess responded warily.
"I get this really painful big bird whenever you get near me. I know you can help me!" Groans of disgust from the rest of the squad.
"I'm so sick of you, Psycho!" Priestess replied.
"This is a very real problem, Priestess—I'm not kidding!"
"Shut your filthy mouth, you worm!" Valkyrie snapped at him.
"Why don't you neuter him, Priestess?" Dragon suggested. "You need any help, let me know."
"You and which army?" Psycho shot back.
"Shut down, Five!" Snow Leopard ordered.
"It was a joke, guys!" Psycho objected. "It was a joke! Remember when we used to laugh? Everybody's suddenly so damned sensitive—is this a Legion squad or a garden party? Pardon me for living!"
"Just shut down, all right?"
"Aah, what a downer. It was a joke!"
###
"Just relax. It will only take a few marks." Two young A-techs were working the suit robot, a slim young Assidic male and a pale little blonde Outworlder girl. They were fitting Tara for her A-suit, guiding her slender arms into the molds as she stood in the machine. A-suits were individually fitted, but the robot automated the entire process. The techs silently fitted the molds over Tara's arms and legs and adjusted the links.
"Put your head back a little," the blonde said. "That's it. We're almost done." Tara was encased in a massive metal cocoon. The rest of the squad stood around watching, crowded into the fitting room. It was as silent as a chapel except for a muted hum from the robot. Tara's eyes were almost closed. She was gazing vaguely into space somewhere up near the ceiling, and appeared terribly vulnerable and fragile. Perhaps it was her beauty, that awful unearthly beauty that never seemed quite real. The Assidic and the blonde were both troubled by it, I could sense. And as I watched her there was a pale light, faintly illuminating her face. She was like an angel, a captive angel trapped in some hellish instrument of degradation. I blinked my eyes, and the light was gone. Priestess watched in silent fascination beside me. I grasped her cool hand and her slender fingers locked around mine. I could see only death in our future. I wondered why Tara was with us. She might be a good psycher but from what I knew of the O's, no human could ever come close to grappling with their psypower. Tara should not be here, I thought. She's…different. We have all chosen death, but Tara should not be wasted in our hopeless cause. Holy or unholy, any way you count it, there's no reason to waste her talents here. But here she is, just as much a soldier of the Legion as any of us.
"That's it! Your A-suit will be ready shortly. Who's next?" The robot hissed and snapped and unlinked itself, and Tara stepped out carefully, shaking her hair loose.
"What can you do for the big guy?" Snow Leopard asked. Gildron stepped forward at a gesture from Tara. A giant, clad in the Maiden's elektra-violet tunic and an extra-large camfax cloak.
"This is going to be quite a challenge," the Assidic said, grinning.
"What do you think?" the little blonde asked. "He's taller than the robot!"