In the Camp of the O's
Lunchtime on Andrion 3. Try it sometime; you're not likely to forget it. Somebody said it's always lunchtime on Andrion 3, and the trick is to be the diner, and not the dinner. That was Psycho, of course. He was having a good time, on Andrion 3. But he was a homicidal maniac. Frankly, the place bothered me. Psycho said it was because I was a pussy.
Lunchtime! No, you won't find this place in any Galactic Guide to Fine Dining. It was bitterly cold and as black as the back of my soul. The only light was what we brought along, and we were not advertising. We were in the O's unholy world, so close I thought I could hear them breathing, all around us. We were freezing, but not from the cold. I was having a lot of trouble with my body parts. We were all terrified and exhausted. I really believe even Psycho was scared.
Priestess and I lay close together, blocking one end of the corridor. The Omnis had made this place; it was part of their starport, burrowed into the heart of a massive volcano in the tortured primeval terrain of Andrion 3. We had said our initial hello with a barrage of antimats, right on the starport, and it upset the O's. I can tell you the O's get very cranky when they're upset.
Snow Leopard ordered a food break. We hadn't eaten since the drop. I didn't care much for food, but my body did. We were in armor, eating cold comrats from the rat tubes in the helmets. It was an awkward procedure. I saw Nine through her faceplate by the cold muted lolite of my flash. She was a pale angel, stricken with some terrible, mortal malady. She trembled in the cold and the dark, eyes glazed, lips wet from the food. The lolite glimmered dully off her black armor. We were all in bad shape. I felt we were inside the beast that was the O. Its metal coils wrapped around us like cenite intestines; dark wet alien metal, a corridor for fools, our own death's road, and I thought it was everything we deserved.
'Deadman!' A hoarse whisper from Psycho. 'This is the second best thing I've ever tasted!'
'Blackout!' Snow Leopard whispered back. We were all a little tense. One did not want any noise, so nobody asked Beta Five the obvious question. I already knew the answer: 'Your sister!'
Deadman, it was cold! The base was in the heart of a volcano—how could it be so damned cold? My faceplate kept melting the frost. This corridor had once been pressurized and breathable, for both the O's and us, but we had vaporized a good deal of the base, and Andrion 3's poisonous atmosphere was seeping into what was left through shattered walls and airlocks. The corridor we were following burrowed into the rim of the lava lake that sheltered the Omni starport.
A faint light flickered to one side. Black armor, a red faceplate, a pale ghostly face, piercing red eyes, a loose lock of white-blond hair. It was Beta One—Snow Leopard.
'How's the food?' he whispered.
I paused briefly. 'It's fine! Haven't you eaten?'
'Not yet. Somebody's got to stay on guard.' He cradled his E in his arms, and his helmet continued to track from side to side as he spoke. His faceplate was pitted with scars; we had caught it good when we decarred. I swear, our One was so good he was hardly human.
'I'll take the watch,' I said. 'Get some eats!'
'Appreciate it,' Snow Leopard responded. 'Keep scanning, all over. We won't have much warning if it's the O's.'
I snapped on max alert, and the screens glowed to life on my faceplate. I knew we would not have much warning if it was the O's. I knew that, for sure. There wouldn't even be time to say our prayers. I cradled my E and slipped off the safeties and set it to xmax. My mouth was all wet and sticky from the food. My body, inside the A- suit, stunk like a corpse. I sipped some water from the helmet tube and focused on Priestess.
She had stopped eating. Her E lay across her legs, and she was using her fieldpak as a cushion for her head. I was exhausted and stunned; and the whole world seemed to focus in on Priestess at that moment. I was overwhelmed with longing and gratitude and regrets when I thought of Priestess. She didn't have to be here at all; she didn't even have to be in the Legion. She had told me about her world, Korkush, a Legion world; it was hard to believe she had ever left such a place. Now she was here, at the very end of Atom's Road, a child of the Legion, clutching an E instead of a doll, worrying about casualties instead of boyfriends.
Crawling, cold and frightened and hungry, into the domain of the dead, awaiting the evil embrace of the O's. Hopeless—surely it was hopeless. We did not know what had happened to the mission; deceptors were so heavy, we couldn't even hear command overrides. We were on blackout, dead to the world, cowering like dogs, burrowing like worms, twitching at every sound, every movement.
Priestess deserved better, I knew. We would die together, at least. Together. My eyes roamed over the corridor walls. A slimy, gritty, dark cenite metal. Centuries of filth encrusted the deck. I did not like it. It reminded me of the exos. This was an exoseg world, and this corridor stank of exos. Perhaps the Omnis didn't use it any more—well, that was fine with me.
'How ya doin', Redhawk?' A quiet whisper from Psycho, down the corridor.
'Flying…I'm flying, Psycho. Pink clouds, it's really beautiful. I'm all right, earther, big ten on that.' Redhawk was completely out of his head. He was our worst casualty. Priestess had kept him alive and stabilized the wounds and patched his armor. Now he was in Neverland, Nineland, courtesy of Priestess's tender armored fingers. Priestess kept us all alive, in Death's Holy Land. Redhawk could not even walk, now. But Priestess would keep him alive, until we all died. Redhawk, Beta Ten—a certified lunatic. He had gotten us almost there, almost down, when it happened.
Psycho was trying to get Redhawk to swallow his rats. I saw them as shadows in cold muted light. Psycho was having trouble—Redhawk's face was flushed and beaded with sweat, and he was hallucinating and didn't want to eat. Priestess had been struggling with him when Psycho pushed her aside and told her to get something to eat herself.
'Priestess—how you doing?' I whispered it.
She stirred slowly and came to life, looking my way. 'Thinker…I'm all right. Psycho, how's Redhawk? Is he eating?'
'Yeah, he's eating now,' Psycho responded. 'He's not all here, though. You sure you didn't give him too much of that stuff?'
'I gave him the correct dosage. His injuries are extensive—we must spare him the pain.' Priestess raised her eyes, looking up into the dark. What was there for her to see? Nothing—there was only nothing, for us all.
Spare him the pain, I thought. Why not the rest of us as well? There was probably a regulation against it somewhere. Pain is good for you—that's what we believed, that was Legion doctrine. Pain is good for you.
The earth trembled, a faint, distant shudder, and suddenly it was as if the corridor was made of jelly and we were moving. We could feel the vibrations in our bones, a deep deep lava heartbeat. Specks of dirt floated down from the roof, and we all froze, in the grip of the Gods, awaiting our fate.
It slowed, and stopped. Once again it was solid rock, all around us. Adrenalin, still flooding my veins. Terror, cold and exhausted. How much more? Deadman, how much more?
'Earthquake. Scut.' Five sounded disappointed.
'It's the lake,' One informed us. 'The whole starport is floating under the lava, and the lava is moving all around it—and through it. The lava must be busting up their starport. We dropped two antis right into the lake—it's got to be an unholy mess by now.'
'Nice job,' Psycho responded. 'How come the O can build a starport like that, when we can't?' Psycho was short and wiry, pale blue eyes and a smooth, child's face. But if you looked closely into his eyes, you could see there was something wrong.
'I'm sure Merlin could explain it,' One replied wearily, 'but I can't.' Merlin was Beta Four, our science wizard.
'Well, let's go back to Atom and ask him.' Psycho was an incurable little smart-ass.
'Fine idea,' Snow Leopard said. 'You got an ops plan that will accomplish that, you let me know.' It was indeed a fine idea. Beta Four had all the answers, but he had lost his legs in the Coldmark raid, and he was growing
