'I have broken the Systie net,' Sweety announced calmly, 'opening the channel.' At first there was nothing. Then we heard them.
'They're over there,' one of the Systies said.
'Yeah.'
'Legion A-suits.'
'Yeah.'
'What does it think they're doing here?'
'We don't know.'
Silence. They continued marching.
'Think we should report it?'
'To who?'
More silence, the wind whistling eerily past my helmet.
'Legion A-suits. That's strange.'
'Who cares. We're almost back.' They lapsed into silence. And the march continued, into the wind.
'What the hell, One?' Valkyrie asked.
'Puzzling,' Snow Leopard said.
''Who cares'?' Merlin repeated. 'They've got the Legion on scope and they say 'who cares'? What is this?'
'Their minds are sedated,' Tara reported. 'They've been psyched. I've never felt anything like it—they're almost punch drunk. It must be the O's. And the civilians are the same—psyched. Powerful, powerful psyching.'
'But our psybloc hasn't gone off!'
'No, no, this happened before—they're still under it.'
'Fire,' Snow Leopard said calmly. My laser sight was right on the helmet of one of the last two Systies. The helmet exploded, a horrid bang, spraying a bloody mist, white-hot xmax erupting all over his armor and he was down, flaming like a torch. A massive boom and a heavy shock wave rocked us simultaneously; snow swirled up off the ground. The Systie's armored companion had been blown in two—his frozen arms clawed at the snow. I snapped my sights to the front of the column. The leading DefCorps trooper was flat on the snow, down and out. Civilians were scattered around him on the ground, unconscious. Psycho had taken out the point man with a stunstar.
'Secure that Systie!' Snow Leopard ordered. We scrambled up from our positions, hustling over to the Systie column. My skin crawled as I ran forward. The Mound was still on the horizon but the terrain was completely flat and we were totally exposed. There was no way they weren't going to see us from the Mound.
'Priestess, revive the prisoner!' Snow Leopard knelt by the point man, turning him over. The Systie trooper had dropped his SG. He had no visible wounds—a stunstar scrambles all nerve and motor activity but has no lasting effects. Priestess passed me, heading for the surviving Systie trooper. I hurried to the back of the column to check on the dead. There were a lot of Systie civilians down—those at the front had been hit by the stunstar. They would survive, but those in the rear might have more serious wounds. The surviving Systie civs had fallen to the ground, exhausted. I passed whole families, too tired to talk, too tired to move. There were a few babies as well—they didn't even cry. I imagined that meant they would die soon.
'They're gone,' Dragon said, touching one DefCorps trooper with the tip of his boot. A bloody corpse, grey skin, encased in a smoking, pitted bronze-colored A-suit.
The dead always look the same, I thought. Lumps of clay. They were shaped just like people, but it was clear there was no life in them. The inhabitants were gone.
'This SG looks good,' Scrapper said, hoisting the weapon.
'Yeah, get the weapons,' I suggested. 'We might need 'em.'
'We've got wounded here!' Twister said. She knelt by a young female who was bleeding from chest and shoulder. 'Priestess, we need you!'
'Give me five!'
I assisted Twister with the casualty. A girl, pale hollow face, just barely conscious, going into shock. Twister gave her a mag. I cut her thin jacket away with my cold knife and pressed field dressings onto the bloody shrapnel wounds. The gel would protect the wounds until she could get proper care, if that ever happened.
'He's conscious,' Priestess reported. She had revived the prisoner. 'Can I tend to the civilians now?'
'Yes,' Snow Leopard said. 'Go. Hurry! We don't have much time!' One wasn't kidding. My flesh crawled every time I looked at the Mound squatting on the horizon like a temple of death. We could die in an instant, at any time.
'All right, Systie,' Snow Leopard said in a voice edged in ice, 'We're with the Legion. I'm not going to make a speech, because we don't have time, but you know the story. Talk and you live, refuse and you die. It's that simple. I'm going to kill you in one mark if you don't cooperate completely. Do you understand?'
'We understand—ah! What did it hit us with?' The Systie's helmet was off.
'I want your answers short and accurate, Systie! The Mound! Why were you going there? Why the civilians? Answer!'
'Ah…yes! We're assigned there! We work…for them.'
'Them? Explain!' I was working on another civilian casualty, but I was hanging on every word of the Systie's debriefing.
'The V! The Variants. We have to do what they say. Our whole company was captured. We had no choice.' The V—he meant the O's. The System called them the Variants, we called them the Omnis.
'Explain! You're assigned to the Mound?'
'Yes—two squads. We supervise the deliveries—the civilians. Oh, my head is splitting! Ah!'
'You mean your quarters are inside the Mound?'
'Right. Inside. Where…where are my squadies?'
'They're gone, trooper. Listen up! Can you get us into the Mound?'
'Gone…yes. But it doesn't want to go there, believe us!'
'Beta, forward!' Snow Leopard shouted. 'On me!' I clenched my teeth and raised my E. This was it—we were going into the Mound. The civilians were all still sprawled on the ground, gasping. 'Get those civilians up,' One ordered. 'Everyone comes! Three, Eight, get that Systie camfax on! The rest of you surround yourselves with civilians! Up! Up! Everybody up!'
We started hauling them up. They obeyed wordlessly, hopeless and doomed, struggling to their feet, then slowly resuming the march. The wind rose, whipping flurries of snow up from the ground. I ripped a bloodstained Systie cloak from one of the DefCorps troopers and picked up an SG as well. We had no desire to involve the civilians but it was the obvious way to cover our approach. We wouldn't fool anyone for very long, but it might work for a few marks—and a few marks might mean the difference between life and death.
And that's how we approached the Mound, walking with a long line of starving Uldo civilians, behind a Systie prisoner. One continued the interrogation as we walked.
'Why were you taking the civilians into the Mound, trooper?'
'The V—they make us do it. We can't resist the V. We do as they say or we die. They use the people—we're not sure for what. It's horrible. We've delivered thousands. Nobody ever leaves—nobody.'
'You've got weapons! Can't you fight the V's?'
'We've got no weapons! The SG? It's only good against people. There's no defense against the V. They take our minds. We do exactly what they want.'
'No psyprobes!' Tara reported. It was remarkable. We were coming closer and closer to the Mound. Nobody appeared interested in our strange procession.
'How many O's, trooper? How many V in the Mound?'
'We don't know! We hardly ever see them. We don't want to see them! We do what they want, they don't appear. It's fine with us.'
Closer! The Mound was silent, a massive, brooding presence, looming above us now, leaking smoke out the vents on top. Huge blackened cenite doors. They could swat us in an instant—but they didn't. We came closer—and closer.
Cold sweat trickled down my temples. Fear, in my mouth. It tasted like metal.
