Armor World Page 13

  I followed Drusus, half-expecting to see a meeting in progress—but the office was empty. There was no one around—not even a single staffer. That was very odd, as Drusus was a hard-working man that never let an hour of office time go by.

  Then I caught a scent. Was that perfume? I thought that it might just be. What’s more, I thought I knew that scent, vaguely. It wasn’t Galina’s, fortunately. I knew everything she had in her makeup kit intimately.

  No… but it was familiar.

  “Where is everybody?” I asked loudly.

  “I’ve given them leave to take a late lunch,” Drusus said. “Now, come over here, to this conference room.”

  He crooked a finger and walked through a doorway, indicating I should follow.

  But the scent seemed to be coming from the opposite direction. The door down at the end… was that a suite inside there? Was I glimpsing Drusus’ adjoining quarters?

  The door down there at the end slammed suddenly. Possibly, someone inside had noted my scrutiny.

  Shrugging, I turned the other way and followed Drusus to the conference room. We sat down, and I laid out my thoughts about 51 Pegasi—the AI and all the rest of it. Drusus listened politely.

  “You’ll have to go back to Legate and offer my thanks to the officers there,” he said. “But there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “I sure will. But… what do you think of the theory?”

  “That the Pegs are behind this attack? Not much. We considered them and rejected them right from the outset. By all accounts, they’re loyal subjects of the Empire.”

  “But… they make the best AI in the province, right?”

  “That’s undeniably true.”

  “And we’re flying directly toward them—correct?”

  He looked a little annoyed. “Centurion, we’ve checked out this lead—”

  “Like that fancy auto-driving air car of yours back on Earth. The Pegs programmed that.”

  He made a wry face, and I realized I’d made a mistake bringing up his air car. I’d had a little trouble with it and inflicted some cosmetic damage to the bodywork. Perhaps he hadn’t entirely forgiven me yet.

  “They program all the auto-pilot AI,” he said. “But we would have heard about it if they were fomenting a rebellion. Think, James: They don’t even have a battle fleet. Not a single ship. How could they build something like a warship the size of a moon with collapsed stardust for a hull?”

  “Huh… I don’t know.”

  “Exactly. It makes no sense to us, either. Now, since you’ve explained your concerns, it’s time for you to be on your way.”

  He seemed to be in a powerful hurry to get me out of his office. I got an inkling then that he wanted to be alone.

  Could he have a lady-friend in the office with him? That wasn’t like Drusus. In fact, in all the long years I’d known him, he’d only been intimately involved with one person.

  Suddenly, I knew where I’d smelled that perfume before.

  “Golden China!” I said loudly.

  He blinked at me. “What?”

  “That’s the name of that fragrance! Golden China. Tribune Deech used to wear it all the time!”

  Drusus sighed. “Thanks for the insights, McGill. Now, get off my ship before I send you back in a box.”

  “Uh… okay, sir. Sorry, sir!”

  I left in a hurry after that, but I kept casting glances down that hall to the door at the far end as I crossed his empty staff area. Was Deech lurking in there? It was my impression that she was.

  Hmm… if Drusus and Deech were back together, well, that was a bad piece of luck. They’d had a thing going years ago, and the praetor’s famously good judgment had gone out the window.

  Deech had ended up pulling garrison duty on Machine World—a punishment post. I’d kind of figured that was the end of it.

  But maybe not. Maybe she’d gotten out of that purgatory somehow, the same way Armel had managed to escape Storm World with his zoo legion.

  Sometimes, I wished the most annoying people in my life would just stay put.

  After popping back over to Legate, I reported my findings to Primus Graves. He didn’t look happy to hear about Deech.

  “Are you sure it was Deech?” he asked me again.

  “Well, I didn’t see her in the buff, or nothing like that. But I know that woman’s perfume. It was all over the place in her office when she was running Varus.”

  “Hmm… I knew she was back, but I’d hoped she would keep her distance from Praetor Drusus.”

  “Sir… just how, exactly, did she get away from her duties on Machine World?”

  “Well, a post like that is far from ideal. Ambitious officers usually find their way out after a few years. In her case, she agreed to take over a near-human legion in order to get reassigned back to Earth.”

  “Huh… wow. A zoo legion? That’s even worse than Teutoburg.”

  “Yeah, maybe. But at least she’s not freezing in a methane-ice storm every night.”

  Machine World was a strange planet populated by large indigenous artificial life. They lived by mining metals to eat—and we humans had decided to exploit their tunnels, making mines out of them. Titanium was particularly common and particularly valuable, Machine World’s prime export.

  “Are we going to do anything about this… situation?” I asked Graves.

  He looked at me sharply and glowered. “That’s not an appropriate question, McGill. It’s not our place to do anything about our superior officers, especially not when it involves their personal lives.”

  Graves was a rules-stickler, whereas I was more of a rules-dodger. Accordingly, I nodded and gave him a reassuring smile.

  “Shouldn’t have brought it up, sir. Just a passing, impure thought in my wandering mind.”

  “Make sure it stays in there,” he grunted, getting to his feet. “You’re dismissed, McGill. Don’t forget the contest tomorrow.”

  I blinked at that. “Huh? What contest, Primus?”

  “Oh… right. You left the meeting early. It was decided that we should do something new this deployment. Last time it was too costly in irreplaceable near-human lives. This time out it will be officers-only.”

  “Really?” I said, brightening.

  Graves laughed. “You really do have the blood-lust in you, don’t you McGill?”

  “The more I think about the idea, the more I like it,” I said. “After all, the new recruits have never had a chance to watch one of these bouts, and we don’t always get a chance to participate. This way, everyone gets a new experience.”

  “The most important thing is that all the participating officers will be human,” Graves said. “Everyone who dies will catch a revive that way. We can’t afford to lose troops permanently—I have a feeling we’re going to need every last one of them when we catch up to this enemy.”

  “Agreed.”

  I took my leave and headed for the showers. After all, I was still sticky from my latest revive.

  It was there, in the warm waters, that a familiar face showed up to greet me. It was Kivi.

  “Hey, girl,” I said, “I haven’t laid eyes on your since we got trash-canned back on Earth.”

  As I spoke, my eyes ran over her body appreciatively. Kivi was a curvy woman—and she wasn’t shy in the least.

  “Don’t remind me,” she said. “I was dead for a week. It’s not even slightly fair the way they choose who comes out of those machines first.”

  We talked, and I filled her in on recent events—not all of them, mind you, just the important ones. I told her what kind of monsters we were up against, the fact we were heading toward the Pegasus constellation, and a few more things.

  It wasn’t until I got to the topic of Deech and Drusus that her eyes lit up with interest. She’d always enjoyed a scrap of gossip.

  “Are you sure about that?” she said. “There are plenty of women aboard these ships who would love to bag our top officer.”

  “I’m sure there are,”
I said, thinking of Kivi herself. “But Deech seems to have managed it first, last, and only.”

  “So odd… She’s such an unappealing woman.”

  “Aw well, I don’t know about that.”

  She twisted her lips up in disgust. “You would go for anything.”

  “That’s not true. I have high standards… like you, for example.”

  Kivi hesitated. I knew she was weighing her options, but she didn’t answer my unspoken offer right away.

  “Hey,” I said, “did you know the officers are going to have a contest tomorrow. Last man standing, as I understand it.”

  “Or woman.”

  “Or woman.”

  Kivi squinted at me. “So… you high-ranked bastards are going to die in some scenario on Green Deck instead of us?”

  “That’s it.”

  She smiled at last. “I like that idea. I just came alive an hour ago. I’d be pissed to die again tomorrow in some pointless training.”

  “It’s not going to happen.”

  She looked at me again with a different light in her eyes. “Is this McGill still a virgin?”

  “I sure-as-shit am.”

  Kivi reached out her index finger and ran it down my arm, tracing the water from the shower.

  “Are you done washing?”

  “I don’t get any cleaner.”

  The truth was, I was almost pruned up. I’d been about to leave when she’d shown up, changing my mind. I found I was enjoying the company.

  “All right,” she said. “I know a place. Follow me.”

  I did, and she was right. She did know a place.

  Of all the girls on the ship, Kivi was the only one I knew of who tended to seek out and locate private spots to have intimate moments. As a tech, she had a big advantage. She could tap into the surveillance system and check to make sure no cameras were watching.

  We went to a maintenance closet, still wet under our clothes. The room was hot and noisy. It was right under the ship’s automated laundry.

  But I didn’t care. This McGill really needed breaking in, and a freshly reborn Kivi was just the thing for that.

  -23-

  The next morning’s contest came far too soon. I rolled out of bed early and suited up. We had a few fresh recruits, and Moller was busy kicking their tails onto the floor.

  Without warning, I banged open the door that led to what we called “the freshman dorm”. Moller was in there, dragging people out of bed with her thick-fingered hands.

  “Officer on the deck!” she shouted.

  Half-dressed noobs stood up in a panic. They scrambled to pull on their kits, realized it was hopeless, then just stood at the end of their bunks in two rows. I walked down the middle, wearing armor and magnetic boots that clanged with every step.

  “The sorriest excuses for legionnaires I can recall,” I said.

  “That they are, Centurion,” Moller said, slapping down a wad of squirming smart-cloth one of the recruits was holding.

  Barton appeared in the doorway behind me. Someone had alerted her, and her sides were heaving, but she acted like everything was cool. These were her charges, as she was in command of the light platoon.

  “Are these your people, Barton?” I asked without looking at her.

  “They are indeed,” she said. “I apologize in advance, Centurion.”

  “They all need a good killing in my opinion,” I said. “Better to do it today than later on in the face of the worst enemy Earth’s ever encountered.”

  “Damn straight they do,” Moller said.

  The recruits looked like they were going to puke. It was 0500 hours, and many of them had died under the dome back at Hammonton. Some had only gotten a few hours rest since then.

  Normally, that would have made me cut them a break—but not today.

  “Listen up, people,” I said. “Some of you are very green. I would like to apologize for everything that’s happened to you in the service of Earth and Legion Varus so far—but I never apologize. That’s a luxury in these dark days. You’ve joined an elite legion to serve Earth, and this is her hour of need.”

  Walking the other way between the ranks, I was pleased to see that none of them met my eye. They stared straight ahead and kept quiet. I’d half-expected a few snorts when I called Varus elite—but I heard nothing of the kind.

  Could it be that our rep was improving? That the list of deeds we’d accomplished had finally helped us rise above our sordid past?

  It was my impression that Varus was regarded more favorably than it had been in years past. Perhaps just as important, these troops all knew that Earth had been invaded and almost taken out. The stakes were high, and everyone knew it.

  I nodded as these thoughts ran through my mind.

  “Normally,” I boomed, “we would hold a traditional celebration in honor of all you noobs today.”

  A few of them frowned in confusion for a second, but no one dared meet my eye.

  “By celebration, I mean butchery. Legion Varus normally kills every recruit at least once in training—often two or three times. This is done to toughen up new soldiers. To get them used to the idea of fighting and dying. To shake loose all of that nonsense it tends to trigger in a weak mind.”

  At this point, there were definitely some widening eyes. Several of them dared to flick their eyes to me, then back to the wall dead ahead again.

  “But you’re in luck. I almost reversed my decision when I saw the sorry state of this barracks… but no, I’m sticking with the plan. Today, you’ll be witnesses to a deadly struggle, rather than participating yourselves.”

  A noticeable wave of relief ran through the room. I thought one or two of the skinny ones might pass out—but they didn’t.

  “That’s right,” I said. “You’ve all had the privilege of dying in actual combat already. No matter how green you were before, I count that as a mark of distinction. Normally, new recruits undergo at least a few months of intensive training before they meet their first aliens in combat. This group, however, has been run over by trams with arms hanging out the windows. You’ve been eaten by things that look like storks and--worse. Accordingly, I’m inviting all of you to witness a new exercise—officer on officer, to the death.”

  You could have heard a pin drop. To signal them I was finished and wanting approval, I raised my gauntleted fist high and grinned.

  “Blood and honor, people! Your centurion and his adjuncts are representing 3rd unit today!”

  Moller and Barton clapped, and the troops joined in. Slowly at first, then with more enthusiasm, they began to clap and cheer. Some had a stray tear run out of their eyes—I pretended not to notice that. They were green, after all, and many had just suffered their first death and revival.

  Marching out of that bunker, I was a hero with an extremely happy entourage behind me. They struggled into their kits and followed as fast as they could, hopping on one foot to pull on boots, helping each other with gear and straps.

  Leading the way down to the mess deck, we found hundreds of others there, eating and catcalling at us. They were rowdy, but they were all in a good mood. How could anyone be unhappy about skipping a solid death?

  “A good day to die, McGill,” Leeson said when we’d left them behind and headed back to officer’s mess.

  “It sure as hell is,” I told him.

  We sat with our cohort. All around us hundreds of officers, from primus down to adjunct, sat on benches and ate slightly better chow than the troops below got.

  The mood was significantly less bubbly up here. In fact, it was positively sour.

  Determined to make my table stand out as an exception, I told jokes about Winslade. I detailed various illnesses he was no doubt faking today to get out of this particular duty.

  “You just know he’s got a doctor’s note from Blue Deck,” I said.

  For several reasons, everyone in my cohort thought this was tremendously funny. First off, no one really liked Winslade. He’d done countless shifty th
ings in his long career, and he was the kind of officer that sought advancement through association, rather than competence or valor.

  To clarify, he wasn’t completely without honor. At times, we’d worked well together. But when he’d become a hog to keep his rank of primus, he’d pretty much turned all the Varus people against him. We had contempt for hogs—mostly because they were failed legionnaires.

  “What’s so funny, Centurion?” a familiar sneering voice asked behind me.

  Craning my neck around, I grinned. “Why, there you are, sir!” I clapped Harris on the back since he was sitting next to me. “Harris here’s been telling us funny stories about you cooking bacon in the kitchens, sir.”

  The humor died on Harris’ face. He glowered at me, then glowered at Winslade. “Leave me out of this, McGill.”

  “Such insubordination,” Winslade said in a severe tone, shaking his head and crossing his skinny arms. “I’m not sure which of you I’ll enjoy killing most today.”

  I snorted a gulp of milk. “What makes you think that might be in the cards, Primus?”

  Winslade smiled. It was a wicked thing to see. Right off, I knew he had an angle. Winslade always had an angle.

  “Haven’t you heard the good news?” he asked. “No, I see you haven’t. Well then, it might be said that while you were visiting Drusus, I helped formulate some of the rules for today’s event.”

  Everyone at my table had stopped laughing. We frowned in confusion. This was exactly the kind of underhanded behavior we’d come to expect from this primus. It was exactly why he wasn’t very well-liked.

  “Rules like what?” Leeson asked.

  Winslade’s smile split his face even more broadly. “Oh… could it be that you don’t know? Hasn’t Graves explained the rules yet?”

  “Just tell us how we’re screwed, Primus,” Harris said.

  “Very well, although I hate spoiling surprises. The event will pit the upper ranks against the lower ranks. Primus and Tribune levels against the Centurions and adjuncts.”

  We nodded suspiciously, we’d heard that much.

  “However,” Winslade continued, “this arrangement is problematic.”

  “How so?” I asked.

  “Simply put, I pointed out that there was a basic unfairness to this event. Our upper-tier officers are physically much older, man for man, the higher they go up in rank. More importantly, there are far fewer of us than there are of the riff-raff classes.”