The Last Legion: Book One of the Last Legion Series (40 page)

“Certainly not a total surprise, sir,” Rao said. “Not after the way Protector Redruth was so interested in ‘helping’ us a few months ago.”

“If the ’Raum win,” Angara added, “they’ll have to do business with somebody, and they hate the Musth too much to deal with them … plus they’ll probably drive the Musth off C-Cumbre, then need somebody to protect them. Redruth. And in the long run Redruth’s no doubt thinking that he can smash the ’Raum at leisure — he’s got spaceships and a lot more troops than we do — and end up with the whole system.”

“But how’d he make contact with the ’Raum? Do you have any intel on Redruth having any kind of a liaison man with them?”

“Nossir.”

“What about those men you have on the inside? Have they heard anything?”

“Sir,” Angara protested, “this isn’t a secure location.”

“For the love of Hildegard … my own base not secure … very well,” Williams grumbled. “Sorry for the slipup.” He shook his head. “Extraplanetary economics, trade routes, mineralogy … they never told me I’d need any of this back on Centrum, when I was an
aspirant.
”

“Nor me, sir,” Rao said. Angara kept silent.

“Did you destroy the rest of these weapons?”

“Nossir,” Angara said. “Had the usable ones put in one of our dumps. Just in case.”

“Probably a wise move,” Williams said. “You can never be too well armed or fit. Come on,
Mil.
We’re going to make PlanGov Haemer most unhappy … and see about modifying a star-ship or two and putting them out on the fringes of the system. As if we didn’t already have enough enemies.”

• • •

Njangu encountered Jord’n Brooks that afternoon. The man gave him a hard look and stamped past, into Poynton’s office.
If I were insecure
,
which of course I’m not
, Njangu thought,
I’d think that maybe the Big Man is suspicious of me. But there’s no reason for that. None at all. Something all his very own must’ve gone wrong.
Nevertheless, he covered the bug in his and Garvin’s apartment and spent two or three hours diligently working.

• • •

“Chief,” Monique Lir said heavily, “I’m just plain sorry. But none of those ‘emits were fit to lick the sweat off the balls of an I&R man, so I dropped ‘em.”

Hedley grimaced. “It isn’t enough we’re getting our flipping butts beat by the flipping ’Raum, but now we can’t find any new crunchies qualified to help us in our hour of flipping despair. I’ll be flipping glad when this is over, Monique, assuming we win, so can start getting some real talent into the company.”

“Like who?” Lir asked. “You think we’ll link up with the Confederation again?”

“I’m not holding my breath on that one,” Hedley said. “I mean when we can start recruiting ’Raum.”

Lir goggled. Hedley chuckled. “Sure. Where do you think your best soldiers come from after a war? From the side whose butt you just beat, if you’ve got any sense.”

“Which means,” Lir said, after considering things, “if things don’t go like they should, I’ll be applying for the First ’Raum Throat-slitters.”

“Uh-huh. And, most likely, I’ll be standing in line right behind you,” Hedley said.

• • •

Poynton went to Brooks that night, very late, in the basement that was that night’s headquarters. The room was spare — Brooks refused even to allow his commo man to share the same building with him, for fear the gear could be tracked. All that was in the room was a cot, a table with a map and a pistol on it, and Brooks’ small day pack that held what few personal items he thought he needed.

“May I have a moment?” Brooks nodded. “There was a message from my main agent on C-Cumbre,” she said. “In a private code. There is a cargo lighter that will leave the Mellusin Works the E-day after tomorrow. The crew has been thoroughly converted to our ways, so it will carry explosives and other devices for The Movement.”

“I’m aware of the shipment,” Brooks said.

“That lighter is fitted with a small passenger compartment for Mellusin’s executives,” Poynton went on. “I was informed that your wife and children can be placed aboard without any hazard. Once the ship’s landed here, I can spirit them into the Eckmuhl without discovery.”

Hope flashed across Brooks’ face, then he hastily shook his head.

“There’s little risk,” Poynton said. “The explosives are all binary, and perfectly — ”

“No,”
he said more sharply.

“Yes, sir,” Poynton said.

“Wait,” Brooks said. “Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not saying no because I’m overly concerned for my children’s safety … nor for that of my estranged wife. When I left C-Cumbre, I swore I would live only for The Movement. If I allow myself to have my children here … or to allow The Movement to waste the slightest of its energies bringing them to me, no matter how much I wish to see them, then I am diminished, and the strength within me is diminished.

“And if I allow myself this weakness, when someone else wishes to devote some of The Movement’s time to his or her private affairs … well, then I would have little space to criticize them.

“Is that not correct.” It was not a question.

Poynton stared into his blazing eyes, then nodded, and left the room. She was a little frightened by his fanaticism … but a part of her mind thought:
But that is why we serve, and he leads
…

• • •

“When the hell are we gonna get Garvin out?” Kang asked.

Ben Dill shook his head. “Dunno. They haven’t told me anything.”

“You think he’s still alive?” Gorecki asked.

“
They
think so,” he said. “Or else they would’ve put us back on scut patrol instead of sitting here with this ickle-pretty Grierson.”

“You know who I feel sorry for?” Kang said. “That girl he’s got. Mellow or Mellis or whatever her name is. She’s got to be living on her fingernails.”

“She’s rich,” Gorecki said. “The hell with her.” But he didn’t sound as if he meant it.

Ben Dill stared out the hatch of the Grierson at the deserted landing field, then, after a time, returned to polishing the ACV’s peephole to an even clearer luster.

• • •

“Brothers Jaansma and Yoshitaro,” Brooks said, “I’ve determined on the special task I promised. You should be aware our Time is racing close, and that we will be ready to bring our persecutors to final battle shortly.”

Garvin blinked, but Njangu managed a “Yes, sir. We’re ready.”

“Good,” Brooks said. “You will continue training our warriors as you have been, but they won’t be recruits any longer, but some of our more experienced fighters. You will determine which are suitable for sub-leader roles under your dual command, and you will work with them very carefully, for they’ll be your unit on the Day, when your Task will be presented to you.”

“And what’ll that be?” Garvin hazarded.

“It would be foolish to tell any warrior exactly his Task,” Brooke said, “for fear of compromising that Task, and others if he were captured. However, I’ll tell you this … it is something you two are uniquely qualified for, and will give you the greatest moment of glory you could imagine.” He nodded the two of them out.

Njangu waited until they were in open air, and around a corner. “Did you figure out what he’s going to do with us?”

“No,” Garvin said. “But something tells me it’s shitty.”

“I’ll bet large credits that he’s going to use our clubswingers, and us, against the Force,” Njangu said. “In his eyes, that’d be a real treat.”

“I’ll be dipped … but I’ll bet you’re right.” Garvin was silent for a moment. “You know, Njangu, I’m starting to think I’m going to like killing that
giptel
-screwer. What a shitty thing to ask of anybody. Doesn’t he have any loyalties to anything?”

“Probably not. Except his goddamned Movement. And the only way you’ll slot him is if you get there before I do,” Njangu said.

• • •

“There’s a soldier here to see you, Miss Jasith,” the servant said. Jasith felt her heart beat twice, then stop for an instant. “An officer?” She remembered seeing a holo once where a soldier was killed, and how an officer brought word to the soldier’s wife.

“I don’t think so,” the servant said. “Officers got things up here, on their shoulders, and he’s got slashes on his sleeve.”

Jasith started toward the door. One of her omnipresent bodyguards slipped from his alcove, loosening his pistol.

Standing in the huge mansion’s foyer was the biggest man she’d ever seen. Big, but he had a kindly look on his face, so she felt no fear. “Uh, Miss Mellusin,” the man said. “My name’s Dill. Ben Dill.”

“I’ve heard of you … you were … are, Garvin’s leader in that tank thing. The man who tells him what to do.”

Dill nodded.

“What can I do for you … have you heard anything?”

Dill looked at the bodyguard, who stared back. “Tell him to go away,” Dill said. “Or I can’t say anything.”

“Dak?”

“I’ve got my orders, ma’am.”

Jasith waited, and he reluctantly left the room.

“I can only stay a second,” Dill said. “And I can’t let you ask me any questions. I just wanted to tell you that Garvin’s still alive.”

“How do you know?”

Dill shook his head. “Can’t say. And I’m busting security even telling you what I did, so you can’t tell anyone at all, not even your father, for fear of what could happen to him. But we thought … I mean, I thought … you ought to know … ‘Scuse me. I’ve got to be going.”

“Wait. I’ll drive you to wherever — ”

But the big man was out the door, and it closed silently behind him. By the time Jasith had it open, he was gone, and no one, not the roving grounds patrol nor the two stationary security posts at the end of the long drive had seen him come or go.

• • •

“This is your alert,” Jo Poynton told Njangu and Garvin. “You will be required to perform a certain Task within the next three days. Rest and ready yourselves, for there will be no more important Time in your life.”

There was a glow on her face, as if she’d just been promised Nirvana.

“We’re ready now,” Garvin said, trying to sound heroic.

“I know you are,” Poynton said. “I know you are.”

• • •

“So the shit’s coming down,” Garvin said, “and we’re stuck here, with no way to blow skibbereen on the operation.”

“Probably,” Njangu said, “but not absolutely. I’ve been doing some looking about this old house.”

“And?”

“Two floors down, sixth door, there used to some kind of office. Or maybe a gambler’s den. I found four com lines when I checked the building out after we moved in, so I knew your average peasant-type ’Raum hadn’t lived there. And guess what? One line is still live.”

“Shitfire and save matches,” Garvin said. “If it’s still hooked up, what’re the chances it’s not bugged?”

“Damned near nonexistent,” Njangu said. “That’s why I thought you should be the one to make the try.”

“And get killed?”

“Better than me, isn’t it? Besides, you’re the hero type, remember?”

“Bite,” Garvin said.

“ ’Kay,” Njangu said. “I’ll be fair. You want to flip a coin?”

“Nope,” Garvin said. “I’ll go. Dummy that I am. When it quiets down and everybody’s pretending to sleep.”

• • •

There was a man in their building who seldom slept and, when he went out, kept his face turned away, to hide his shattered features. His name was Lompa, and he was one of the two agents Poynton had ordered to take Garvin Jaansma alive, long ago as he walked back from Bampur’s party, where he’d first met Jasith. He still had periodic headaches from being kicked in the head, and had to be careful what he ate.

He’d heard about the Forceman who’d deserted to the ’Raum, and instinctively knew his leaders were wrong. Those
giptels
never changed their ways, their habits, and when he saw the traitor was the tall, blond man who’d beaten him so badly, he became very sure. He was on light duties because of his injuries, so it was easy to hang about, and unobtrusively follow the tall one wherever he went.

Now, late at night, he saw Garvin Jaansma creep out, and felt triumph surge. The two traitors would finally be exposed, and he would not only be revenged, but be rewarded for diligence and cunning. He went down the hall after Jaansma.

Lompa watched Garvin, slinking along like the dog he was. The blond
giptel
went downstairs, and Lompa waited for a count of three, followed. He paused at the landing, then peered around the lintel post, keeping low. His quarry’d gone down another flight. Lompa crept toward the next set of stairs, and Garvin came out of an open doorway. Lompa started to scream, but Garvin had him by the throat, squeezing, squeezing. The world darkened, went to a pinpoint as Garvin pressed harder, and Lompa’s feet flailed, crashing against the wall.

The man went limp, and Garvin dropped him just as a door came open. One of Poynton’s security men came out, rifle ready. The rifle came up, and there weren’t any options. Garvin crouched, and the pistol was out of his waistband and firing.

The blast reverberated through the building, and lights went on, and shouts began. Garvin started back toward his rooms, but heard rapid footsteps coming down the stairs. He fired three times quickly — the near-universal symbol for distress, hoping Njangu would catch the message, and ran down toward the exit. A woman was on guard, and she swung her blaster toward him. Garvin shot her, scooped up the rifle, and took an instant to tear her ammunition belt off. A bolt smashed into the wall above him, and he automatically shot back, started for the rear of the building, when a hatch opened in the wall and Njangu Yoshitaro slid out.

“Guess you screwed things up, huh?” was Njangu’s greeting. “See if I ever let you have all the fun again.”

“Come on,” Garvin said. “The whole goddamned Eckmuhl will be after us in a second.”

“Sounds like they already are,” Njangu said, and they were out into the night streets. Garvin took a moment to muscle a large can of trash across the door, then they were running down the narrow alleys, darting here, there.