The Last Legion: Book One of the Last Legion Series (33 page)

“You’re the one who wanted to show me the garden instead of the bedroom,” Garvin said.

“But I didn’t think you were
that
impatient.”

“Now you know. Still am, in fact.” Garvin moved his hips, and Jasith gasped. “You’re ready already?”

“I never stopped being ready,” he said into her ear. “Now lift your legs … slowly. Hook your ankles around my back.”

“Like … like this? … oh … oh … Garvin, not so hard … please … slowly now … now, yes now … oh gods, gods, gods …”

• • •

The restaurant, deep in the heart of the Eckmuhl, had only two things recommending it: It had an entrance on each of four streets; and those streets, unlike most in the Eckmuhl, had excellent line-of-sight perspectives for lookouts. There were two at each exit, armed with mil-issue blasters. A police patrol — three lifters, as was customary in the Eckmuhl — saw the gun guards and sensibly kept on going.

There were seventeen men and women in the restaurant, all armed. Jord’n Brooks and Jo Poynton sat at a table in front of them. “We shall make this brief, brothers and sisters,” he began. “This location can only be considered secure for minutes. You seventeen are the most highly regarded warriors and agents who survived the disastrous and poorly advised jungle campaign. I want to form the new Planning Group, for you to be The Movement’s
sohs
if you will. A few of you were members of the previous Group, and I request you continue to serve.”

A’Raum stood.

“Yes, Brother Ybarre?”

“This is very irregular, brother. According to custom, the Planning Group should be selected by the fighters, after due consideration, prayer, and discussion.”

“In normal times, true,” Brooks agreed. “But these are not normal times. I cannot emphasize that too highly. We took heavy casualties in the forest and when we relocated to the cities. What are your estimates, Sister Poynton?”

“About forty percent,” the woman said. “That’s an estimate, but I think pretty close to the truth.”

There was a low murmur of dismay. Brooks nodded. “Exactly. I do not wish that figure to be spread about, for fear of further destroying morale. We were beaten badly by the Rentiers’ dogs. Let us never forget that, and let us never make the mistake of thinking the Task is completed until we see real victory.

“Our fight will be, must be, in the heart of the enemy. We will strike them hard, and take any target that we find. But these targets must be risk-free. If we are to be hit as hard again as we have been, I fear the Task may lie uncompleted this generation, and will have to wait for another generation of warriors to rebuild The Movement.

“I will not allow this to happen. We must practice patience and cunning, and we also must move swiftly. Time is of the essence. Let me tell you our new grand strategy: I propose the Grand Rising shall occur soon. Very soon. Within the next six months, in fact.” There were exclamations of shock, surprise. “Yes, brothers and sisters. The day is at hand when we shall grasp power. We shall not fail this time. Before the year is out, Cumbre will belong to us.”

• • •

“You’re ’Raum, right?” Njangu asked.

“What makes you think that?” the girl asked.

“My suspicious mind,” he said. “Well?”

“What if I am?”

“Then I’d ask why you’re so interested in a stinking soldier like me?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Oh, I don’t know … could have something to do with loud bangs and people getting hurt and nonessential things like that,” Yoshitaro said. “Or have you been in a timewarp for the last year or so?”

“I don’t pay any attention to politics,” the girl pouted.

“ ’Kay,” Njangu said. “Now, my next question … since you’re on the, shall we say, youthful-looking side, might I ask if you’re over the age of consent?”

“Is all you soldiers do is talk?”

“Not at all,” Njangu said, leaning closer and whispering in the girl’s ear. Her eyes got wide.

“You talk dirty! And what’s a bunny rabbit?”

“Never mind. Do you want to dance some more?”

“Uh-uh,” the girl said. “Let’s go for a walk. My name’s Limnea.”

“And I’m Njangu the Adequately Equipped.” Njangu stood, dropped coins on the table, and put his service cap on. “Where are we strolling to?”

“Down on the beach, maybe?”

“Sounds as good a place as any to get mugged,” he said.

The blaring music chopped suddenly when the insulated door closed behind them. The night was brilliant — all three moons were up. A breeze came off the bay, and Njangu shivered. The girl, who was wearing a pair of green silk-looking pants that flared hugely at the leg, supported by suspenders that served to hide the nipples of her firm, fairly large breasts, appeared to feel no cold. She had close-cropped red hair, and her eyelids, lips, nails and earlobes were tinted blue. Njangu eyed her, looked at the softly romantic shoreline, at the colorful beached fishing boat they were walking toward, and wished he had a pistol.

“So what do you do with the Force?” Limnea asked.

“Not much,” Njangu said. “Push papers back and forth. Make sure people get paid on time.”

“Oh.” Limnea sounded disappointed. “I thought you were one of those like I’ve seen on the holos. You know, carrying a gun and things like that.”

“Not me,” Njangu said. “Loud noises terrify me.”

They reached the boat, and Njangu leaned back against it, Limnea beside him. “You can take it as a compliment if you want,” he said, “or not, but you remind me of some of the girls I used to clique with.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Not a lot,” he said. “And maybe I’m wrong. I’d sure like to be.” He put his hands on Limnea’s hips, moved her in front of him, pulled her back against him.

“Isn’t it pretty?” she said.

“Mmm-hmm,” he said, hands moving around and around on her belly.

“That feels good,” she said softly. He moved his hands up, cupped her breasts, tweaked her nipples with his fingers. She sighed, turned, put her arms around him. Her tongue darted into his mouth.

Limnea’s open eyes flickered, and Njangu threw her into the man coming at him with a knife. She squealed, fell to the sand. The man slashed at Njangu, and Yoshitaro bent backward. The man recovered, tried a thrust, and Yoshitaro grabbed his wrist with his left hand, yanked him down, and snapped a knee up into the man’s rib cage. Bones snapped loudly, and the man gagged and fell. Njangu kicked him in the face, and scooped up his knife as the second man came in. Yoshitaro slashed, and the man yelped, pulled his bleeding guard arm back.

The two fenced for an instant, then Njangu reversed his grip on the blade, jumped to the side and smashed a fist into the man’s neck, snapped his hand back, swinging the blade out and ripping the man’s face open. The man stumbled sideways, blade whipping back and forth, keeping Njangu off.

Njangu waved his knife flashily, the man’s eyes flickered to it, and Njangu stamp-kicked the man’s instep. The man grunted, lunged at Njangu, who sidestepped, and slashed the man’s wrist open. Blood sprayed, and the man gasped, clutched his fountaining wound. Njangu kicked him very hard in the solar plexus. His attacker gagged, folded, went flat.

“I hate being right sometimes,” he said. Limnea was running hard down the beach. He went after her, caught up with her in a dozen meters, knocked her sprawling. She rolled over, looked up at him. He still held the knife.

“How did you know?”

“That you weren’t just interested in my fair white young body? Easy,” Njangu said. “The only time a soldier walks in a bar and the prettiest girl spots him and has to jump his bones is in the holos. Mostly we end up paying for it, or with a skunk, or pounding our puds after the money’s been spent buying some who-gives-a-shit honey champagne cocktails. Plus you were a little obvious.”

“Don’t kill me,” she said. “Please.”

“Why not? You would’ve let your two goons kill me,” Yoshitaro said reasonably. “Now answer my question. You’re ’Raum?”

Limnea nodded jerkily.

“Were you and your friends interested in robbery? Or just a dead Forceman?”

Limnea didn’t answer.

“I’ll guess the last, you debonair revolutionary you. So now the question becomes, what should I do now? Scream shrilly in the key of C for a cop?” Limnea’s eyes were wide in fear. “I’ve heard rumors the noble Policy and Analysis policemen have some interesting interrogation techniques with Raum suspects,” he said. “Particularly female ones.”

“Please,” Limnea whispered.

“Please my left testicle,” Njangu said. “You wouldn’t have shown me any mercy, now would you?”

“They might not have killed you,” she said.

“Yeh. And I’m the Queen of Sheba.” He looked around. “Get up.”

She obeyed, eyes fixed on him, and on the knife.

“See those rocks over there? Go on over.”

She obeyed.

“Very well,” he said. “Negotiations can begin. It’s either the cops, or …? Remembering that a good revolutionary always knows how to think on her knees.”

Very slowly, she slid the suspenders from her shoulders, let them fall to the side. She undid a fastening, and her pants pooled about her feet. She wore only matching briefs, pulled them down and was naked.

“An excellent start. Now, come here.”

She came toward him. Her breath was coming faster, and her lips were slightly parted.

“When we were interrupted so rudely, you were doing something with your tongue,” he said.

Limnea kissed him, and her hands fumbled with his belt, his trousers snaps. She pulled her lips from his. “We have a saying,” she said. “The one who completes his Task is rewarded.”

“Or, to the victor belong the spoils,” Njangu said. He looked at the knife in his hand, sent it spinning, a silver circle splashing into the water. He began unfastening his shirt.

“No,” she said. “When you do it to me, I want to feel your medals, want them to dig into me. But first, I must be on my knees, as you ordered me.”

• • •

The ’Raum hit post offices in half a dozen cities across D-Cumbre, including two in Leggett. The raiders knew just what they wanted, exploding safes for the credits inside, and all official correspondence for its intelligence values. There were only two ’Raum casualties, both minor, and they were gone with the other raiders by the time police units arrived.

PlanGov responded by suspending habeas corpus — suspects could be held, without trial, for as long as two months. Special internment centers were set up on outer islands and were quickly filled.

Governor General Haemer announced a new identity card would be issued to all ’Raum. After a certain date, anyone without a card or with the old identification was subject to immediate arrest. This would force the men and women of The Movement into the open. Or so was the theory.

The Rentiers’ Council voted to levy a two-million-credit fine on the entire ’Raum community, for sheltering criminals and dissidents and failing to support the properly constituted government, but Governor Haemer vetoed the measure.

The men and women of the Heights muttered angrily — the Confederation, or what was left of it, clearly was soft, spineless. Firm measures needed to be taken at once.

Policemen patrolled in at least pairs, frequently more, and wore combat vests, ballistic armor, and many carried mil-issue blasters.

• • •

There were three of them at the door of the shabby tenth-floor apartment. The odor of cooking, too many bodies, sweat, and grease hung heavy around them. Two paid no mind — they were ’Raum of the cities and had grown up in the stink. The third, who’d come in from a farm as The Movement ordered, fought nausea.

The woman who opened the door had a baby on her hip, and two little girls clamored behind her. They saw the guns, shrank back.

“Sister, we come from The Movement,” the man said. “There’s nothing to fear. We are here to collect your identity card, and the cards of your household.”

“But … what will we do without them?”

“Nothing will happen,” the man said. “Every ’Raum has been ordered to do this.”

“Oh,” the woman said. “So if no one has a card …”

“Exactly,” the man said. “We all stand … or die … together. You understand our struggle better than most.”

“I’ll get ours,” the woman said. “Be sure and knock hard next door. The old woman there is very deaf.”

• • •

“There is great concern on our homeworldsss,” System-Leader Aesc told Governor Haemer, “about your ability to maintain peace in thisss sssystem since contact with your Confederation has been lossst.”

“You know about that?” Haemer said, undiplomatically. The holo image of Aesc and Wlencing shifted slightly, firmed as the transmission beam relocked.

“Of courssse,” Aesc said. “You ssshould be aware that there are variousss factionsss, I believe isss the word, in our Empire, and their desssired policiesss are not necesssssarily the onesss currently in effect.”

“The Ssssytem-Leader meansss,” War Leader Wlencing interrupted, “there are thossse in the homeworldsss who would like to intervene here in the Cumbre system, and gift you with what might be called a caretaker government. At leassst until your Confederation returnsss, at which time proper gratitude can be expresssed.”

Haemer could not detect any human emotion such as maliciousness or irony. He noticed Aesc look swiftly at his war leader, then away. “I am sorry,” he said, “but I am getting mixed signals. Don’t you Musth share a common viewpoint?”

Wlencing started to say something, but Aesc interrupted. “Our waysss are not that unlike yoursss,” he said. “We rule by concensssus of all.”

“But sometimesss,” Wlencing put in, “the common agreement changesss when a new reality presssents itssself.”

“Is that happening now?”

Wlencing and Aesc exchanged looks, didn’t answer.

• • •

“Great God, what a mess,” Loy Kouro exclaimed.

“Isn’t it just,” Police Major Gothian agreed. “We figure there’s at least a million ID cards all melted together. Probably more. I guess every goddamned ’Raum on D-Cumbre had a gun put to his head, and the P&A Team on C-Cumbre says the miners there did the same thing.”