The Lazarus War: Legion (29 page)

“It’s a long way to come for one body.”

“Not if you knew Jon like I did. He was a good man.” He stated the fact flatly, as though that was the only justification he needed. “If you could be half the man he was, you’d do okay.”

“I’m not sure that I can be,” I said. “Not here.”

“You got any more family? The municipal records aren’t so clear any more. Lots of deletions. Things get lost all the time.”

“There’s nothing left here for me any more.”

I think that, in the medical centre lobby, I’d gradually become resigned. Finally realised that I was done with running: that sometimes the inevitable had to be faced.

“There’s not much left for anyone,” the sergeant replied.

And just like that, without thought or reflection, I said the words.

“I want to join up.”

The sergeant didn’t ask me to explain, didn’t seem to want an explanation. “All right, kid.”

“I want to make them pay,” I said, my voice rising to a near shout. “I want to take this to the Directorate. There’s no point in running from it any more.”

The UA Army had set up a recruiting office downtown. When that was flooded with applicants, they set up another two. Eventually there were recruitment offices on every street corner, or at least it felt that way. Even then, there were always queues that reached around the block: eager faces looking to sign up for a tour.

I found an office off Wood Street; an armour-plated booth big enough to accommodate a single trooper, behind a plasglass screen.

I queued in the heat with the other applicants. Most looked like they were more interested in a hot meal and a decent bed, but that was fair enough. A digital display on the outside of the booth read NO FITNESS CHECK – NO ENTRANCE REQUIREMENT – NO ONE TURNED AWAY.

When it came to my turn, the Army man looked me up and down. He was a big, stocky man in a digital camo uniform with a vaguely amused smile on his broad face.

“You want to sign up, boy?”

“I wouldn’t have queued for an hour if I didn’t.”

“Got a comedian here, do we?”

“Just saying it how it is.”

He passed me some hardcopy papers, in a tray beneath the glass barrier. “You read? You write?”

“I can do both. Got an education centre diploma.”

“A regular Einstein. You know who that is, kid?”

“I know of the name.”

“Well, that’s a great start. You know what branch you want to join?”

“Somewhere off-world. Away from here.”

“A man after my own heart,” he said, marking an electronic application. “Follow in the footsteps of our brave forefathers, out into the distant stars.”

“Somewhere away from here is all I want.”

“You running from the law?”

“Not any more.”

“Good enough for me. Sign here.”

I was awake.

I scanned the room. Found that it was empty and quiet.

“What time is it?” I called to the AI.

“Oh-four-hundred hours, Major. Do you require sedation in order to sleep?”

“No. I’ve slept enough.”

“There is a communication on the
Colossus
’ server for you. I was directed to wait until you were awake for the day.”

“I’m up. Give it to me.”

“Captain Williams wishes to see you in the ship’s brig.”

Had to be about Professor Saul, which made it urgent.

“I’m on my way,” I said to the AI.

I needed to see the traitor with my own eyes; to stare down the Directorate bastard. I stumbled out of my bunk.

I stormed through the corridors of the
Colossus
and towards the brig, full of righteous hatred. The dream – of Carrie’s death, so many years ago – felt visceral; fresh as a new bullet-wound. My head ached – an incredible pressure building in my temples. Anyone or anything that stood in my way had to be dealt with.

Saul had tried to do just that.

Two voices vied for dominance: a devil and an angel.

Which was which?

He’s a Kellerman in the making. Except that you can stop him; you can nip this treason in the bud.

You don’t know what he is yet. This – execution, reaching judgment without evidence – isn’t the Alliance way. If you’re wrong…

“Shut the fuck up!” I yelled, thumping a hand to my cranium. I didn’t want to hear the voices any more; didn’t want the cajoling whispers. There were hard choices to be made here and only I could answer for them. “I wasn’t wrong on Helios, and I won’t be wrong now.”

“All right, sir,” Kaminski said. He had fallen behind and out of step with my pace. “No one’s questioning what happened on Helios.”

I’d forgotten that Kaminski was even there. Both he and Jenkins flanked me, dressed in body-armour. Not full combat-suits – those were reserved for the simulants – but borrowed Marine gear. The black flak-vests looked out of place against their khaki fatigues.

“Whatever you decide to do,” Jenkins said, “we’re here to back you up.”

She gave me a nod. It was probably meant as a supportive gesture but I interpreted it as patronising.

“I get it, Sergeant. Now fall in line and do as I order.”

I still didn’t trust either of them; couldn’t decide whether the overheard conversation last night had been real or imagined. Of late, I seemed to be having a lot of trouble separating those two strands.

The checkpoint entrance to the brig sat ahead. Four Alliance Marines in flak-suits paced the corridor; shock-rifles slung across chests, goggles strapped onto tactical helmets. One was eagerly cracking his knuckles.

“The prisoner is this way,” he said. “Captain Williams is already inside.”

He manually cranked the locking wheel on the hatch and showed us through.

The interrogation room was small, with a low ceiling. Stud-lights above were at full illumination and dowsed the room in pure white light. It was boiling hot; caused either by the presence of so many personnel gathered in one tight space, or by the heightened state of emotion.

Strange: how so much fear in one place focused like a light until it became a laser.

There was such fear here, but an equal measure of hate.

I breathed it in, felt the emotions hit my bloodstream like a drug.

“Saul…” I whispered.

He had seen better days. He was shirtless; thick black chest hair sweat-matted, shoulders marked with heavy red welts. My would-be nemesis sat in the middle of the room, on a chair positioned very specifically beneath a metal table. His forearms were both held in front of him, fingers splayed.

When I entered, he looked up at me with terrified eyes, and his lips moved without speaking. He shook uncontrollably. I’d seen the behaviour before: in civilians pushed over the edge, in a state where sanity became like a fine mist. He was either shitting himself or a damned good actor.

That was the fear part of the room dealt with.

Now the hate.

Williams paced behind Saul. Finally: he had the anger in his eyes, looked like a real soldier. He loured at the door as the four of us entered. The muscles along his neckline trembled, spoke of barely restrained emotion. He had a small semi-automatic pistol in his hand, and both of his hands were swollen, with minor scuffs across the knuckles. That explained Saul’s condition.

Lincoln the dog appeared between the legs of the table, feeding on the hate and negativity in the room. He let out a bark in Saul’s direction and Williams scattered him with a loose kick.

“This is the traitor,” the Marine added, quite unnecessarily. He took up a spot by the bulkhead. “Admiral Loeb says that he has to be guarded at all times.”

A seat had been set up directly in front of Saul: empty. Williams nodded to me, indicated to sit. “I didn’t want to start without you, Lazarus.”

I took up the position. Saul started whimpering.

For a long moment, I just watched him. Watched the flicker and flit of his eyes; noted his inability to make eye contact. The easy tells that I was staring at a liar. Was he an Alliance liar or a Directorate liar? That was the question. That was what I was going to find out.

“When did they get to you?” I asked.

Saul gave an exaggerated frown. He glanced over my shoulder, at Kaminski. Then at Jenkins; perhaps hoping that a female face would improve his chances of getting out of this alive.

“I…I don’t understand,” he started.

“Don’t fuck with us!” Williams shouted. He pressed his mouth against Saul’s ear, made the man cringe. “This is Lazarus you’re dealing with here.”

“Everyone has a price,” I said. “Everyone has a breaking point. What was yours?”

“I’m not what you think I am!”

“Then what are you, Saul?”

“Please! I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Williams roared at him. His voice was like a weapon: piercing but impossible to aim in the contained area. “Don’t lie to us, Saul!”

“I’ve dealt with your kind before,” I said. “Don’t forget what happened on Helios.”

“I’m not like Dr Kellerman!”

“Then why have you been sending unauthorised transmissions from the
Colossus
?”

“Yeah, using a Directorate encryption package!” Williams added.

“I…I was following orders…”

“That’s what they all say,” Williams sighed, shaking his head. Sweat was dripping from his brow, in big ugly droplets.

“Please; there is nothing to tell! Don’t do this! I deserve proper procedure. I’m an Alliance citizen, of the Arab Freeworlds—”

“You’re a fucking terrorist,” Williams spat.

The room degenerated into yelling. The dog began to bark again. Saul was shouting the same old answers, the answers that any traitor would give. Williams was in his face, repeating the accusation again and again.

The noise in the chamber was becoming unbearable.

None of this is real
, I decided.
None of this matters
.

Williams slapped his sidearm on the table in front of me. The noise was loud enough to cut through the rest; to temporarily silence the cacophony.

“You’re the CO,” he said. Not at all like the useless, combat-fresh operator I’d come to know over the last few days. “You make the call. But I say ghost him. No telling what he has planned.”

Elena tried to warn me
, I thought.
I brought a traitor to Damascus
. I imagined him planting viral traps in the
Colossus
’ AI, malware backdoors to the rest of the fleet’s defences. Williams was right: there really was no telling what damage Saul had already done.

The room froze.

Kaminski and the Marine over one shoulder; Jenkins at the other. The devil and the angel.

Saul’s lower lip was quivering.

“Ghost him,” Williams said. He turned to the Marine. “Security eyes are off, right? He tried to escape, got capped.”

The Marine nodded. “I didn’t see a thing.”

“Maybe,” Kaminski said, “the captain has a point.”

Saul shut his eyes.

I picked up the gun. It was a Berringer M-5, a standard Army sidearm. The weapon felt good in my hands. For a device designed to kill, it was perhaps perverse that it immediately made me feel more alive. The arming stud was depressed, ready to fire.

I aimed it at Saul.

“Tell me what I need to know,” I whispered. “Who were you broadcasting to? What were you broadcasting?”

“By the Earth Herself,” Saul snivelled, “I am not a terrorist.”

I jammed the pistol into Saul’s forehead. He went cross-eyed, glaring up at the muzzle.

Pulling the trigger on the pistol would be a mercy.

It would be for Elena, and what we had lost.

For Carrie.

For my mother.

The Directorate has taken them all.

“I know what it is,” Saul suddenly blurted. “I know what the Artefact does.”

“I’m listening,” I said.

“It…It’s a gate.”

“Yes?”

“Or rather, it can open a gate. A Shard Gate.”

“Go on.”

“This Artefact connects to the others – will allow travel through the Shard Network, through time-space. Beyond Q-space. The Key will give access to the entire grid.”

He’s lying
, I decided.
But let him speak. Let him trip himself up, so there is no room for doubt
.

“Does it still work?” I said.

“P…possibly.”

“How do you know this?”

“I’ve had access to Command’s complete Shard database, to the findings of all research.”

“Go on.”

“Th…they are an artificial life-form.”

“Something made them?”

“No. They advanced beyond the flesh. The ruins on Tysis World prove that they are thinking machines.”

Tysis World was a name I recognised; a planet on the border between the QZ and the Maelstrom. There had been fighting there, during the First Krell War – with many lives lost on both sides.

“And Tysis World was one of the planets on which the Alliance discovered evidence of the Shard?”

Saul nodded. “Yes. During the War, certain structures were uncovered. Nothing as grand as an Artefact, but very old and very detailed relics. We’ve been able to interpret several of the markings found there. I think that the Reaper is just an emissary, programmed to seek communication.”

“Why would they want to communicate with us?”

Saul shook his head. “Not us. The Reaper wants to communicate with the others – to rejoin the rest of the Shard Network. They never left us, Harris. They’re still out there.”

“More,” I snarled.

Saul talked quickly. “The Krell and the Shard fought in Damascus Space. This was the site of their largest engagement. The Shard won; reduced the Krell to scavengers.”

“That isn’t what Kellerman told me.”

“Kellerman was wrong about a lot of things.”

“When did this happen? Why haven’t we seen any evidence?”

“It was thousands – millions – of years ago. So long ago that we can barely measure it. The Shard left the Krell imprisoned in the Maelstrom. But they underestimated them; misunderstood the true nature of organic life. They thought that they had killed them all, but their methods were imprecise. They let them rise again.”

He swallowed, shook so hard that I thought that he was going to pass out. “The Shard moved on to the next galaxy – left behind the Artefacts. The site on Tysis allowed us to decode parts of the outer hull cuneiform. It shows that the Damascus Artefact was once a node, a part of a much greater Network.”

“You can travel through it?”

“Yes,” Saul said, “to elsewhere in the Shard Network.”

Williams interrupted Saul with a sarcastic laugh. “This sounds an awful lot like bullshit.”

“Why were you broadcasting in contravention of Loeb’s orders?” I said. “What were you broadcasting?”

Saul’s voice dropped. “I am an agent of the Alliance Science Division. My orders were to report directly to a classified location.”

“Without telling me?” I said, my voice rising in volume.

“Specifically,” he said, nodding. The bones of his forehead pressed against the muzzle of the pistol; when he moved, I saw that the gun had left an imprint on his head.

I was mission commander, and I knew that there was no way Sci-Div or Command would’ve approved such an order. There were huge risks in sending out communications this far inside the Maelstrom; risks that Saul had completely ignored. He’d put us all in peril. I was losing my patience with him. His revelations were becoming more outlandish; more unlikely.

“Why?” I yelled.

“C…Cole didn’t know who he could trust. My orders were to avoid comms with
Liberty Point
.”

“Then where did you send the data, Saul?”

“I don’t know. Just star coordinates.”

“And why were you using a Directorate encryption package?”

“I wasn’t,” Saul said. His voice had become a nasal whine. “I really wasn’t. Loeb has that part wrong.”

Williams let out an exasperated sigh. “Just waste this asshole. Cole selected us, man. He trusts us, not him.”

I focused on Saul. “Why would Cole tell you to do any of these things?” I asked. “None of it makes sense.”

“It was in case I, or the mission, became compromised.”

That word again. Elena’s word. Dropped so innocuously into the conversation, it immediately set me on a different path.
This whole episode is a damned diversion
, I thought.
A diversion from Elena, and from what really matters
.

“Tell me about Elena,” I said. “I want to know everything.”

Saul nodded. “She was here, but that was years ago.”

“Did they do it?” I asked, eyes widening. I could barely contain my rage; could barely stop myself from pulling the pistol trigger. “Did Elena operate the Artefact? Did she use the Shard Gate?”

“I don’t know!”