Read Online Cross of the Legion by Marshall S. Thomas - Free Book Online
Authors: Marshall S. Thomas
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soon, for the run to the planet. There's plenty of Omni traffic in orbit, but they won't see us. Don't worry—we're invisible!"
Invisible, I thought—fine. But once the Kiss drops us off on the surface we won't be invisible any more. The odds will be even then, just like in the old days. We'll all be specks of cenite metal in the mud, dodging tacstars. I looked around at our squad. Dragon and Psycho—I knew them well. Both were dependable and fearless. Dragon was the perfect leader. We were in good hands. And Redhawk was the best driver we'd ever had. Priestess would risk certain death to aid her comrades. I'd seen it. But the others were unknown to me. Dragon said they'd all been tested in combat. I was uneasy. I had known everyone in Beta, but Beta was no more. Our regiment, the 12th, had been annihilated by the O's on Uldo.
Five unknowns. Young males, all—Priestess was the only female in the squad. Five kids, on their way to Hell. The Manlink master was a tall, rawboned youth called Trigger. He stared into space, clutching a dox cup in two large hands. His hair was short, a military cut. Dragon said he was fast and accurate, and that's what you need with a Manlink. The Medic was a quiet young Assidic they called Doctor Doom. He had long straight black hair that hung down over his dark slanted eyes. He didn't talk much, Dragon said, but he was there when you needed him. Good enough. That's all anyone could ask of a medic. Flash was dozing in his seat. He was the trooper who had had the hot knife confrontation with one of Valkyrie's crazies over breakfast. He looked like he should still be in school. Sweats was another school kid, short blond hair and pale blue eyes. He was watching a cartoon show on a little d-screen, laughing to himself. Wonderful. The last one was Tourist, a mop of brown hair, a heavy tan, dozing in his seat.
I wasn't sure I wanted to get to know them better, yet I was sure I would. And I knew it would hurt, all the worse, when anyone was killed.
"Pits, Mams, what's the story?" The message crackled from the cockpit. Little Miss Miss was with us, another Phantom bird hurtling through the vac, invisible and silent.
"Mams, Pits, all quiet," Redhawk responded. "Prep for autorun—coming up." Our approach transmissions were LOS/VSR—line of sight/very short range. Nobody could pick them up.
"Pits, tell DD that Scrapper yearns for his healing fingers."
"Tell her I said 'any time'," Doctor Doom replied warily. He evidently had a crush on Scrapper and had foolishly let her know about it. She liked girls better than boys but enjoyed harassing the Doc from time to time.
"Valkyrie," I interrupted.
"Yes…Thinker," she responded.
"Stay alert, all right?"
"Tell it to the O's, Thinker. Don't worry about us. Oh, and—Thinker?"
"Yes?"
"Stay alert."
I smiled. "Tenners, Mams. Pits out."
We broke away from the asteroid cloud and fell towards Augusta 6, two tiny invisible armored bats, full of microscopic life forms, inexplicably hurtling along the pathways of the Gods, speeding through infinity, cheating the vac, bound for an unseen world. It was visible on screen, but not yet out the plex.
Dragon moved up to the copilot's seat. We were surrounded by a brilliant, starry realm, a magnificent view of the Outvac and the greater universe beyond. We could see the Gassies, a glowing field of phospho dust. We were warm and comfy in the Kiss , but it was pretty scary when I thought about it, looking out to that hostile, inky vac. The Gods were totally indifferent to our fate. Whether we lived or died would make absolutely no difference to these stars, to these worlds. We could all die in a microfrac—all humanity could die, in a cosmic instant—and it would make no difference at all to the galaxy. The evidence of our presence would crumble and blow away in the wind, on all our worlds, in a few million years—and no one would ever know we had been there at all. Looking into infinity, I heard the music of the
Invisible, I thought—fine. But once the Kiss drops us off on the surface we won't be invisible any more. The odds will be even then, just like in the old days. We'll all be specks of cenite metal in the mud, dodging tacstars. I looked around at our squad. Dragon and Psycho—I knew them well. Both were dependable and fearless. Dragon was the perfect leader. We were in good hands. And Redhawk was the best driver we'd ever had. Priestess would risk certain death to aid her comrades. I'd seen it. But the others were unknown to me. Dragon said they'd all been tested in combat. I was uneasy. I had known everyone in Beta, but Beta was no more. Our regiment, the 12th, had been annihilated by the O's on Uldo.
Five unknowns. Young males, all—Priestess was the only female in the squad. Five kids, on their way to Hell. The Manlink master was a tall, rawboned youth called Trigger. He stared into space, clutching a dox cup in two large hands. His hair was short, a military cut. Dragon said he was fast and accurate, and that's what you need with a Manlink. The Medic was a quiet young Assidic they called Doctor Doom. He had long straight black hair that hung down over his dark slanted eyes. He didn't talk much, Dragon said, but he was there when you needed him. Good enough. That's all anyone could ask of a medic. Flash was dozing in his seat. He was the trooper who had had the hot knife confrontation with one of Valkyrie's crazies over breakfast. He looked like he should still be in school. Sweats was another school kid, short blond hair and pale blue eyes. He was watching a cartoon show on a little d-screen, laughing to himself. Wonderful. The last one was Tourist, a mop of brown hair, a heavy tan, dozing in his seat.
I wasn't sure I wanted to get to know them better, yet I was sure I would. And I knew it would hurt, all the worse, when anyone was killed.
"Pits, Mams, what's the story?" The message crackled from the cockpit. Little Miss Miss was with us, another Phantom bird hurtling through the vac, invisible and silent.
"Mams, Pits, all quiet," Redhawk responded. "Prep for autorun—coming up." Our approach transmissions were LOS/VSR—line of sight/very short range. Nobody could pick them up.
"Pits, tell DD that Scrapper yearns for his healing fingers."
"Tell her I said 'any time'," Doctor Doom replied warily. He evidently had a crush on Scrapper and had foolishly let her know about it. She liked girls better than boys but enjoyed harassing the Doc from time to time.
"Valkyrie," I interrupted.
"Yes…Thinker," she responded.
"Stay alert, all right?"
"Tell it to the O's, Thinker. Don't worry about us. Oh, and—Thinker?"
"Yes?"
"Stay alert."
I smiled. "Tenners, Mams. Pits out."
We broke away from the asteroid cloud and fell towards Augusta 6, two tiny invisible armored bats, full of microscopic life forms, inexplicably hurtling along the pathways of the Gods, speeding through infinity, cheating the vac, bound for an unseen world. It was visible on screen, but not yet out the plex.
Dragon moved up to the copilot's seat. We were surrounded by a brilliant, starry realm, a magnificent view of the Outvac and the greater universe beyond. We could see the Gassies, a glowing field of phospho dust. We were warm and comfy in the Kiss , but it was pretty scary when I thought about it, looking out to that hostile, inky vac. The Gods were totally indifferent to our fate. Whether we lived or died would make absolutely no difference to these stars, to these worlds. We could all die in a microfrac—all humanity could die, in a cosmic instant—and it would make no difference at all to the galaxy. The evidence of our presence would crumble and blow away in the wind, on all our worlds, in a few million years—and no one would ever know we had been there at all. Looking into infinity, I heard the music of the
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