My mouth dropped open and stayed that way. Winslade continued to explain to me that we were on a Mogwa planet, and therefore we couldn’t be caught doing sloppy things like reviving people we weren’t sure were dead. After a minute or so, I interrupted him.

  “Sir? Did you say the mini-tanks came from the dome itself?”

  “Yes, of course. I thought you knew that. You fought them, didn’t you? They came out of that tunnel in the midst of Manfred’s unit. A dumb place to set up camp, as it turned out.”

  “But sir… we’re here to reinforce the Mogwa. Why are they killing our troops?”

  Winslade shrugged. “We’re slave-troops, McGill. Apparently, no one yet has bothered to reprogram their machines. When they find a soldier, and that soldier fires on them, they return fire. Think about it: did you fire on them first, or did they fire on you?”

  I did think about it for a moment. “Manfred was in a death-fight with them. We came to his aid.”

  He pointed a thin finger at me. “You see that? Hubris. Jumping to conclusions. Classic mistakes of the inexperienced. The first rule of these technological nightmares is this: if you shoot at them, they shoot back. That course of action is therefore ill-advised.”

  -28-

  After learning that the mini-tank drones were possibly not as dangerous as we thought, I had to rethink our entire tactical situation. Without an army of robots coming for us, we were in better shape than I had assumed—but we weren’t out of the woods yet. Winslade and his snotty sidekick Primus Collins made that point very clear.

  “It’s my opinion,” Winslade said, “that our position here is untenable. We’ll have to pull out and withdraw farther from the dome itself.”

  “Farther away? What in the hell?” I blurted out.

  My outburst caused the crowd of centurions to shuffle away from me. I didn’t recall farting, but they were sure acting like I had.

  “McGill…?” Winslade said. He made a show of checking a timer on his tapper. “Another interruption? What? Has it even been ten minutes yet?”

  “Sir, if I may—”

  “If you may what? Interrupt me again?”

  I closed my big yap and squinted. It was hard to be quiet. I’d killed Winslade about the same number of times as I’d felt respect for him. We didn’t have what you might call a perfect professional relationship.

  At last, he sighed. “All right, all right. Out with it. I can see you’re about to burst and piss all over the carpet. What is it this time, man?”

  “Sir, we’re here to save the Mogwa inside that dome. We’re not even inside the dome yet. How can we protect them if we retreat even farther away?”

  Winslade snorted. “McGill… have you noticed we haven’t been received with open arms? There are no Mogwa maidens—perish the thought—throwing flowers in our path.”

  “Huh…?” I said, blinking.

  “I mean that we can’t get inside that frigging dome. None of us can—not Legion Varus, not Legion Victrix, not even a single stinking Blood Worlder has been allowed to pass inside. Four legions of us, all with devastating losses, and we’re being ignored like beggars by these ungrateful Galactics.”

  Thinking that over, I began to nod. “That makes perfect sense, sir.”

  He eyed me for a moment. “Why?”

  “Because they’re Galactics. They’re better than us. We’re slave troops. We might be ornery if we got into their nice dome, we might tromp on their flowers or whiz on their furniture or something.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Without a Mogwa leader to speak for us, sir, no Mogwa will give us the time of day. It would have to be someone respected like Sateekas, too.”

  Winslade put his hand to his narrow chin. His fingers massaged his jaw, and he did that for so long that it became cringey.

  “You might be onto something there. You’re saying we need some kind of introduction to get their attention? They’re ignoring every transmission, every—”

  “That’s right, sir. We’re animals to them. Chattel, slaves, dogs that bark in the night.”

  “Well then, how do you propose that we get their attention and get inside that frigging dome?”

  Pausing before I answered, I gave it a think. Then I came up with an idea. It was iffy, but then, my plans always were.

  “I think I can do it. But not if we waste time pulling out and moving farther from the dome itself. We’ll be left outside forever if we do that.”

  “Hmm… I suspect you’ve got some insane scheme in mind, yes?”

  “Ah… Primus?” another voice interrupted. This time, it was Primus Collins. She’d stopped looking bored, exchanging that expression for one of growing alarm.

  “Yes?” Winslade asked, turning toward her.

  She pointed at me. “Tribune Winslade, I know Turov put you in operational command of this sector, but you’re not seriously considering taking advice from this madman, are you? I would caution you not to listen to him—in fact, I think he should be removed from our command bunker for insubordination.”

  Winslade nodded thoughtfully. Then, he turned back toward me. “McGill, we have very little time. We must withdraw from this area within hours. Even now, we’re making those arrangements.”

  My mind was full of comments about chickens and rainstorms, but I held my tongue. That kind of criticism, no matter how valid, never made anyone happy. “I think I can do something, sir. I think I can get inside that dome. But I need several hours to do it.”

  Primus Collins approached the table. Her hands were fists. To me, it looked like her hands were a bit shaky as well. I wasn’t sure if that was from anger or fright—it could have been either, or a combination of both. She was a volatile woman.

  “We’ve all done the math, fool,” she told me. “We’ve lost the battle in space, and we’re about to lose it on the ground. It’s only a matter of time before the enemy ships return to continue dropping asteroids on the dome. Even at this distance, we’ll be destroyed by the shockwave of any serious strike.”

  It was my turn to look alarmed. I’d kind of forgotten about all that business of the enemy fleet trying to destroy the big Mogwa City. When we’d arrived here at Segin, we’d seen them in action, but we’d driven them off and even destroyed the tugs that lingered to bait us into orbit.

  But now, according to Collins, they were coming back. Winslade and she were in the command bunker, so they definitely had better intel on the topic than I did. Their command lifter had scanners and the like to paint a tactical picture of City World along with whatever was hanging above the clouds in space.

  Collins altered the display, first zooming out, then adding some perspective. Segin was a globe in the center of the hologram. We could see three small vessels heading toward the planet, each of them dragging something bigger than the tugs themselves.

  “Hours,” she announced. “Less than twenty, if our estimates are correct. That’s all we’ve got before the first of those rocks falls on top of us. The Mogwa dome might hold, but we will probably die.”

  “I get it,” I said. “I understand the danger, and this isn’t a happy situation for any of us. But at the same time, I’m not ready to give up on this mission. I don’t think we should run off and hide, pissing our pants in a cave somewhere while this war plays out without our participation.”

  Primus Collins came at me then. She’d been unhappy before, but now she was steaming mad. “You’ll follow orders, McGill. That’s what you’ll do, or I’ll shoot you myself.”

  We faced off, and she put her hand on her sidearm. As she was my superior officer, she had the right to gun me down on the spot. If two other officers of her rank and above agreed, she could make it permanent. That was Legion Law.

  But I didn’t cower. I stood tall, and I stared at her—daring her to do it.

  “Just a moment,” Winslade said.

  We both turned to look at him.

  “McGill… it pains me to admit this… but I’m willing to give you a chance. How long do you need to perform this miracle of yours?”

  “Twenty hours will be plenty,” I said.

  Collins made a squawking sound, but Winslade waved for her to be quiet. “That won’t do, McGill. We do actually have to move out, you see. We have to withdraw to a safe distance. Even if—by some act of a stray deity—the Mogwa do agree to let us enter their dome it must come sooner than twenty hours.”

  I could see his point. I squinted at the holotable, thinking hard. It would take a few hours just to reach the spot I was thinking of on foot. That would make things pretty tight for my banged-up unit.

  “All right,” I said. “I think I can do it—but I’ll need some skimmers. Not all of them, just enough to take my unit close to the dome and drop us off.”

  “Insanity!” Collins sputtered. “Winslade, are you seriously considering this? I’m going to have to—”

  Winslade put a gloved hand into her face, palm out. He didn’t look at her at all. He was eyeing me thoughtfully and thinking hard. Collins didn’t seem to like that, but she did shut up.

  “You’ve done surprising things in the past, McGill. I hope you can pull off another miracle. You’ll get one skimmer and no more than twenty minutes to use it.”

  “All right, I’ll take it,” I heard myself saying. “But sir, could you find a way to accelerate some revives for me? I’m short a lot of good men.”

  Winslade made a farting sound with his mouth. “We have one revival machine—one. Even if I were willing to grant your request, I couldn’t get more than a single man into play before you have to leave on the mission.”

  “One man… all right. I’ll take that. Give me Adjunct Leeson.”

  “No!” Primus Collins interjected. She’d been holding her water for a few minutes now, but she’d finally lost it again. “Right now, that machine is halfway done with reviving my chief of staff. It’s a sick waste to recycle him without cause.”

  Suddenly, I knew why Collins was in here bossing Winslade around. She had her own agenda.

  “Hmm…” Winslade said, checking things on his tapper. “It would seem that you’re correct. Request denied, McGill. Go work your miracle with what you have.”

  Dismayed, I shook my head. “I need my officers, sir. I need a man who’s capable with specialized gear.”

  Winslade shrugged and pursed his lips. He turned slowly, scanning the room. His skinny finger finally pointed into the darkest corner.

  Following his gesture, I spotted a man I hadn’t noticed before. It was none other than Gary, the adjunct who’d gotten Galina to land his ass on an unknown world for the first time.

  “Take that man. He’s an officer, and he’s wasting space in my command bunker at the moment.”

  Gary and I looked at each other, startled. Neither one of us liked the proposal.

  “Sir,” I said, “Gary’s a fine fellow and all, but I don’t think—”

  “He’s all you’re going to get. Take him or leave him, I really don’t care. But I suggest you get going, McGill. You’re twenty minutes are now nineteen in total.”

  “Uh… what? You’ve started that clock already?”

  Collins made a smug gesture. She pointed at the battle planning table. She’d helpfully brought up a clock app and started a countdown.

  I opened my mouth to object, but Winslade wasn’t having any of it. “Dismissed, Centurion. Get out of my bunker—we’ve got work to do.”

  I was annoyed, but I’m also a man who knows how to hustle. I strode to Gary and rapped my knuckles on his chest. “Get your kit. Meet me on the landing strip.”

  Gary looked stunned. He reached for a bag and his cap, and he followed me out of the place.

  “McGill, this is crazy. I don’t—”

  “Look, Gary,” I said, turning on him. “Your ass is mine now. We’re on a battlefield, and we’re in an emergency situation.” While I spoke, I drew my pistol and checked the charge. Then I snapped the breach shut. “If you’re going to give me any kind of trouble, let me know immediately. I’ll put you down as is my right and duty. Maybe you’ll get a revive someday, maybe not, but you’ll stop being my problem.”

  Gary gaped at me and my pistol. He’d flown a desk for decades, and he wasn’t really accustomed to how things worked in the real legions.

  “I’m… I’m sorry, sir,” he stammered. “I’ll meet you at the skimmer.”

  “All right. But don’t be late. We’re taking off in five, and you’ll be marked as AWOL if you’re not there.”

  Gary ran off like his ass was on fire. I forgot about him and began shouting orders into my tapper. Harris groaned aloud when he learned he was going to be accompanying me.

  “Round up every heavy we have who’s able-bodied—and that includes you.”

  “Sir, I took a serious injury out there—”

  “My tapper says Winslade’s bio people have approved you for duty. Are you shirking, Adjunct?”

  The channel was muted for a few seconds. I could almost hear the awful show of cursing Harris must be putting on. When he came back on he sounded resigned to his fate. “I’m headed for the skimmers, sir.”

  Moving at a steady running pace, I reached the skimmer first. An irritated pilot lowered the loading ramp.

  Barton showed up next with a pack of her lights in her wake. I stopped her as she rushed to board.

  “Not everyone will fit on this skimmer, Erin,” I told her.

  “But sir, if we take two trips—”

  I shook my head. “Winslade isn’t even giving us time for one run. You stay here and tag along with the rest of the cohort. Get my people revived if you can. You’re in command until Leeson or I start breathing again.”

  She looked troubled, but she didn’t argue. She rarely did. I took one squad of her light troopers, the ones who looked like they were in the best condition. By the time they were all loaded up and seated, Harris was hustling up the ramp. He had a full squad of heavies behind him. They looked tired, but they were game.

  Next came the specialists I’d chosen. Among them were Kivi and Sargon.

  Then, just as we were about to raise the ramp and lift off, a figure in black came racing across the airfield. I didn’t recognize him, but out of curiosity, I waved for the pilot to wait for thirty more seconds.

  The man was wearing armor—special armor, like mine. Squinting and staring, I had a sudden thought.

  “You’ve got to be shitting me...” I said aloud.

  Then the stranger flipped up his faceplate, and I realized I did know him.

  “Sorry sir, hard to get this kit up over your hips quickly. I guess you know all about that.”

  It was Gary, and he was wearing a twin suit to my very special suit of armor.

  -29-

  The lifter took off in a blast of exhaust and debris. The ramp was still rising, and I had to grab hold of Gary before he tumbled to the hard ground as it spiraled away below us.

  It was Harris who first demanded answers. “Hey, Gary? Where the fuck did you get that kit? Do you have any idea how long I’ve been requesting gear like that? Do you know how many times I’ve been killed because I didn’t have a suit?”

  Harris was truly pissed, and for once, I couldn’t blame him.

  “Um…” Gary said. “I don’t understand, Adjunct. Back at Central, lots of officers have them.”

  “Like who?”

  Gary shrugged. “Like Praetor Drusus, and Praetor Wurtenburger, and Equestrian—”

  “The brass, huh?” Harris demanded. “The fat prigs who never go out into the field?”

  “Um… I guess so…”

  Suddenly, Gary choked and gasped. He grabbed at his belly.

  We all looked down. Harris had stabbed his combat knife into the man’s gut. It would have been a killing thrust, but the armor had turned the blade.

  Harris lifted his knife and flipped it in his hand. “Looks like it’s the genuine article,” he said. “Just checking for you, kid.”

  He clapped him on the back and walked away, muttering to himself.

  Gary gaped and rubbed at his belly, which was no doubt smarting a bit underneath his fancy armor. “What the hell was that for?”

  I smiled. “Lucky for you he’s in a good mood. Oh, and you might consider putting some more padding under that suit of yours. Off the rack, it’s good at stopping punctures, but you can still get plenty banged-up in combat.”

  The stunned adjunct let me steer him to a jump-seat. I told him to strap in and stay quiet. Then I opened a chat channel with my officers and noncoms. It was time to do a little planning during the ten minute flight to our destination.

  “3rd Unit, we’ve been given a golden opportunity today. We’re truly going to become the few and the proud of Legion Varus.”

  A number of groans could be heard, but I ignored them.

  “Troops, we’re returning to the site of Manfred’s last stand. Unlike 7th Unit, we’re not going to make the single critical mistake that they did.”

  I had their attention now. There was a circle of frowning faces, worried eyes and a few open mouths staring back at me.

  “What Manfred did wrong, is he shot at these little drone tanks first. That triggered their software. It set them off, putting them into kill-mode. If we avoid that single error, we should be fine.”

  A hand was up—several in fact. I ignored Harris, and Sargon, and several other whiners. Surprised to see Gary raise his hand, I called on him. I was a little bit curious as to what he might have to say.

  “Adjunct Gary Dahmen,” I said. “In case the rest of you don’t know, Gary is joining us as our replacement for Adjunct Leeson.”

  A lot of suspicious, unwelcoming eyes traveled to look Gary over. He didn’t look very impressive. He was a big enough man, but he carried himself like he was a little soft or something. He was also obviously in his thirties, which made him physically older than most of us. We Varus types tended to die a lot and come back out of the machines in prime condition.

  Faking a smile and a nod, I gestured for Gary to speak.

  He cleared his throat and swallowed. “Troops, I’m Adjunct Dahmen. Our centurion asked for questions, and I have one. What if we’ve already permanently compromised our status with these robots?”