“And so you want him permed?”

  “I want justice to be done. This man is dangerous.”

  The tribune eyed me seriously. “You know what I see here? I see a natural born killer. A man who takes action without hesitation. A man who defeats his enemies, and defeats death, with regularity.”

  He held up his hand to stop the protests that had begun.

  “We need people like James McGill. Don’t you two see that? Legion Varus is a rough outfit. Many have tried to tame this legion and all have failed. I’m displeased with all of you—except for the recruit. It is your job to guide and nurture the natural attributes of the recruits Earth sends us, not to perm anyone who annoys you. Let me remind you that we need people who think outside the box—people who win against the odds.”

  Everyone was silent for a moment. The tribune stood up and began to pace. He put his hands behind his back and walked around the room, passing behind the other officers. Even Graves looked uncomfortable.

  “I’m overturning your ruling, Primus. But against my better judgment, I will not demote you. Not this time.”

  “What? Demote me? What possible—”

  “Not for perming a promising recruit, that’s bad, but insignificant compared to your other violations of legion policy. You did not inform me of the incident with the Galactic. That kind of matter is beyond your office—hell, it’s beyond mine, as well. I should really inform Hegemony.”

  Primus Turov met his eyes. She nodded as if in sudden understanding.

  “But you won’t inform Hegemony, will you?”

  “No,” he said. “And that’s why I’m letting you off. The shit-storm would be tremendous. I feel the same reluctance you must have felt to kick it upstairs. I’m going to bury it, and you will all swear to bury it with me.”

  “Consider it done, sir,” Graves said.

  The other officers agreed quickly. But then their eyes all fell together upon me.

  I shrugged. “What Galactic? I don’t remember any such thing.”

  I’d meant it as a joke, but they all nodded seriously.

  “Keep in mind,” the tribune continued, “despite our silence, this might not be the end of it. The Galactics often pause for a long time—even years—before deciding to proceed on an issue. The Empire is unbelievably vast. There are more layers of bureaucracy than we can even imagine. Our best scholars and contact-specialists tell us their decision-making process is slow and ponderous—but it is also very thorough. Just because they haven’t raised the issue yet doesn’t mean we’re in the clear.”

  “Perhaps we should carry out the original sentence properly,” the primus said, seeing an opportunity.

  I felt my gut twist. The woman wanted to see me dead at all costs.

  The tribune shook his head. “It won’t matter. Galactic Law doesn’t work that way—no legal system does. You can’t shoot someone and then throw away the gun, hoping that simple act will absolve you of your crime. The Galactics think of humanity as a single entity. Anything done by any member of our species inflicts guilt upon all the rest. The charges will be against all Earth, not an individual, if they come.”

  The meeting adjourned on that troubling note, and we each went our separate ways.

  * * *

  We exited the ship months later, riding lifters down into the atmosphere. Coming home on leave was strange. We carried our rucks to the terminal where we were surprised by a waiting throng of relatives and friends.

  My parents hugged me, and my mom cried. It was strange to see them again. I’d been out in space nearly a year. How could I go back to sleeping on their couch after I’d been killed over and over again on another world?

  I decided in the end that I’d just do it. That was how you returned home: you just did it. Thinking too much was never a good idea when dramatic changes were thrown at you.

  None of the old friends I’d left behind had ever heard of Legion Varus, but they were impressed anyway. They were even more impressed when I told them stories of battling lizards, dying in combat, and breathing canned air for a year. Everyone knew about Cancri-9. They’d all played the game Steel World, and they couldn’t believe I’d fought there for real.

  After a few days, squaddies from my unit began to contact me. We all had similar problems: we felt a disconnect with our families and old friends.

  Carlos put it best, I thought: “They’re all a bunch of wannabes and lamers.”

  Yeah, that was about right. I met him at a bar in Philly, and we drank like we were still aboard ship. A few others joined us, including Natasha, and for a time it was like we’d never been apart.

  “How long do you think we have?” I asked finally, breaking the jovial mood for everyone.

  They stopped laughing and stared into their beer mugs.

  “I heard they have a new contract already,” Natasha said. “They’re just dickering about the price.”

  I nodded, having heard the same thing. Legion Varus always had a job to do out in space. There was always another mess to be cleaned up, another rival to be put down.

  I wondered where I would be next year. Since the question was impossible to answer, I up-ended my brew and guzzled it all down.

  The End

  BONUS Reading!

  What follows is the beginning of the Undying Mercenaries Series, Book #2: DUST WORLD

  To purchase the entirety of the book search for DUST WORLD on your eBook Seller's website, or go to BVLarson.com

  DUST WORLD

  (Book #2 Undying Mercenaries Series)

  by

  B. V. Larson

  Earth meets the Galactic Empire, a Timeline of Events:

  1922 – Radio broadcasting sweeps Earth, becoming the first of many forms of streaming transmissions that reach out into space at the speed of light.

  1943 – Imperial Galactic outposts pick up a growing tide of transmissions from Earth. They open a case file and launch a study.

  1947 – A rash of UFO sightings is recorded on Earth as the investigation by the Galactics begins.

  1969 – NASA lands two men on the Moon, taking humanity’s first step into the cosmos. The alarming advance is reported to Galactic Central.

  1977 – Voyager 1 is launched on a mission to explore beyond the limits of the Solar System.

  1993 – The European Union is formed, becoming the first of many multi-national conglomerations to follow.

  1995 – The first exoplanet is discovered circling 51 Pegasi, a main-sequence star. Thousands more discoveries soon follow.

  2012 – Voyager 1 becomes the first man-made object to travel outside the Solar System. The violation is carefully noted by Galactic observers.

  2025 – Worldwide economic collapse hastens the formation of multiple political blocks and increased nationalism. China, the EU and the North American Collective (NAC) enter a new Cold War era.

  2041 – Earth’s first and only colony ship, Hydra, is launched toward Zeta Herculis. The colonists are primarily political exiles from the NAC.

  2052 – Having detected humanity’s rise in technological prowess and various violations in conduct, the Galactic Empire is compelled to act. Local Battle Fleet 921 is dispatched to the Solar System and Galactic Rule is established.

  2054 – On Earth, cultural shock gives way to acceptance. The former rival political blocks form Sector Governments, underneath a central Hegemony Government, which in turn is ruled by the distant Galactics.

  2058 – Earth’s first mercenary legion, Victrix, executes two successful missions during their initial year of operation, bringing home much needed Galactic Credits and proving Earth is a viable new member of the Empire.

  2076 – Legion Varus is formed to handle clandestine off-world missions.

  2081 – An outbreak of rebellious factions in Brazilia Sector is put down. Seven million are killed in the subsequent purge.

  2099 – James McGill is born.

  2121 – McGill joins Legion Varus. During his first tour, he’s instrumental in ending all mercenary contracts with Cancri-9, a disaster that is later ruled to be unavoidable. Earth subsequently enters an economic downward spiral.

  2122 – Hydra, Earth’s one and only colony mission, finally reports to the home world. The colonization of another star system has been achieved, but it is a violation of Galactic Law. Legion Varus is dispatched to handle the situation…

  “The slain care little if they sleep or rise again.”

  – Aeschylus, 479 BC

  -1-

  Right from the start, I didn’t enjoy my four months of shore leave. The veterans and adjuncts told us that after a year of blood and hard living we were bound to have trouble settling back into our old lives. The Legion psychs gave us a short speech about “disconnection problems” before we were released and sent marching down the gangplanks into Newark spaceport, and they suggested we should contact the legion if we felt we needed help.

  I laughed that off, went home to Georgia on the sky-train and then endured the cubical-party my parents threw for me in our hab’s rec room. A dozen neighbors and friends had gathered, so I glued a smile on my face. All the while, I wanted nothing more than to get away from everybody.

  For the next few weeks, I think I was in shock. Civilian life didn’t seem fun to me anymore. The first chance I got, I hunted down Carlos and some of the others from my unit. We got seriously drunk. That felt good, but it only lasted for a few hours.

  Staggering home again, I awakened to find my mom making me breakfast. I ate it, threw it up in the bathroom, then ate some more.

  “You want to talk about it, James?” she asked.

  “No,” I said. “I’m fine.”

  “Getting things off your chest can really help.”

  I looked at her, and she forced a smile. I could see the worry in her face, and it bugged me.

  “Telling war stories won’t help anything,” I said.

  She dropped her eyes to stare at the floor, and she hugged me briefly. “You should try to get back into your old routines,” she said.

  I did as she suggested for the next month or so. I tried to fall back into my old habits, but I felt disconnected from gaming buddies, old girlfriends from school and even my own parents.

  It wasn’t all me. I could tell that. Oh sure, people I knew smiled at me whenever I came around. They patted my back and fed me sandwiches. A few even bought me drinks.

  But when they looked at me, they stared a little too long. There was darkness in their eyes while they did it, too. They could see something in me—something different. There was a distance between me and everyone else, a separation. It took me a while to figure out what it was.

  “You aren’t sure that I really am James McGill,” I said to my dad suddenly one Thursday night in June.

  “What?” he asked, startled. He’d been lying on his back, watching a streaming ballgame on the ceiling. It was the only flat surface large enough in our tiny apartment for a big screen. He adjusted his recliner, and it pushed him up into a vertical position. He paused the game. “What did you say, son?”

  “I can’t blame you for not knowing who I am,” I said. “Sometimes, I’m not entirely sure myself.”

  My dad gave me a small, nervous chuckle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, James.”

  “Let me spell it out for you. By my count, I’m on my fourth body. I’m not in the skin I was born with, Dad. Do you get that? I died out there in space. I died and was reborn with a fresh body built from alien slime.”

  Another nervous chuckle from him. Had his eye twitched a little? It hadn’t been a wink, I was certain of that.

  “Sure,” I continued, “I look like the old James. I have his familiar laugh. I have the same hair, I like the same brand of beer and I can still kick most people’s ass in an online shooter whenever I bother to log in.”

  My dad stared at me for another long second. Then he straightened up. “You’re my kid,” he said firmly. “You’re still my kid. I’m certain about that.”

  I smiled. “Thanks, Dad. But I’m undeniably different. You have to admit that.”

  “You’ve grown up, that’s all. You’ve been out to the stars. People always have trouble coming home after being in a war. That’s been true throughout history. Maybe you should contact the legion. Maybe the bio people can help.”

  I snorted. “Yeah,” I said. “They’ll give me a shot of something. They’ll bleed me and order me to piss in cups until I run dry. And if they don’t like what they find, you know what they’ll do?”

  My dad shook his head slowly.

  “They’ll kill me again, that’s what. I’ll be recycled, hoping for a better grow.”

  Dad looked horrified. “I don’t understand…”

  I stopped him with a raised hand. I had never told my family about what really happened when you died and came back. I’d skipped all that. It wasn’t clean, and I suddenly felt bad for burdening my father with all this crap.

  “I’m sorry, Dad. I’m going for a walk.”

  “Wait,” he said, jumping up out of his chair and grabbing my arm.

  I looked at him.

  “There’s something else. You’ve got the wrong idea. You haven’t been watching the news, have you?”

  I frowned, shaking my head.

  My dad sucked in his breath. “People aren’t thinking about how you died. They don’t think of you as some kind of zombie—you can forget about all that. We don’t think like that because we haven’t experienced it. What we’re wondering is just what your legion did out there, son.”

  It was my turn to look confused.

  My dad pointed to the ceiling. “Notice how we stream games and junk all the time? We don’t want to watch the news. No one does. People are scared, James. That’s what’s wrong with them.”

  “Scared? Why?”

  “Because Cancri-9 has dropped our contracts. They canceled them all. Germanica, Solstice, Victrix—no one is flying out there to work anymore. The news agencies aren’t saying why, but they do often mention that Legion Varus was the last to serve on Steel World.”

  I felt a sudden squeeze in my guts. This was much worse than being feared as a member of the walking dead. I’d thought things were bad before, but now I was beginning to get the real picture. This wasn’t about me—not exactly.

  “You’re telling me that everyone thinks Legion Varus screwed up? That we somehow pissed off the princes and lost our best interstellar trading client?”

  He nodded slowly.

  I let out a sigh that left me empty. “They’re right, in a way,” I said. “But they’re also wrong. There was nothing we could have done to keep those contracts from getting canceled, Dad.”

  “What happened out there?” he asked me, his voice barely above a whisper.

  I almost told him the truth then, but I stopped myself. We weren’t supposed to talk about it. Legion Varus didn’t have as many rules on conduct as most legions did, but secrecy in the area of mercenary contracts was definitely one of them.

  “I can’t talk about that. But believe me, the dinos on Cancri-9 were going to screw us one way or another. They were never Earth’s friends.”

  Dad nodded slowly. “Okay. I hope knowing the truth makes you feel better.”

  “Yeah sure,” I said, trying to laugh it off. “People think my legion ruined the planet’s economy single-handedly. That’s a lot better than thinking I’m a freak.”

  “No, no,” he said. “It’s not ruined. Sure, we’re in for some hard times. Some belt-tightening is overdue, that’s all.”

  I reached for the vid controller which rested on the table next to Dad’s recliner. I flipped it to the news—to the financial browsing section. I climbed into the chair beside my father’s and stretched out on it.

  My dad quietly reclined his chair again, and we stared at the ceiling together. I watched vid after vid—they were all the same.

  Planet-wide, we were going into a recession. At least, that’s what the suits called it, but the more excitable people called it a “crash”. The more they talked, the more I became concerned. Companies and governments were announcing shortages, rationing and layoffs everywhere. District governments, Sector governments and even Hegemony had declared budget shortfalls and were listing their proposed cutbacks. All alien tech commodities were off limits for civilian purchase. Every Galactic credit on Earth had to be wrapped up into something they called a “relief fund”. I had to wonder who was going to feel “relieved”.

  My mom showed up then, returning from the store in the middle of a streaming netcast that showed idle legionnaires sitting on park benches in Asia. They looked bored and pissed off.

  “Dammit, Pete,” she said accusingly. “I thought we weren’t going to tell him.”

  “He figured it out,” Dad said. “He was bound to catch on eventually. The whole world is talking about it.”

  She huffed and carried her purchases into another room and began putting stuff away.

  I turned my attention back to the screen. An article scrolling at the bottom of the display caught my eye. Had they just mentioned Legion Varus by name?

  I clicked on the link and after a few bonus commercials you couldn’t skip, we were treated to a raving politician who blamed my legion by name for destroying interplanetary relations without authorization.

  “But we didn’t screw up!” I shouted at the screen. “The lizards planned it all out before we even got there. This guy doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

  My mom came back into the room after hearing me shout. She looked worried.

  “What happened up there, James?” she asked me.

  I almost told her the whole story. We’d been briefed not to, but I almost did it anyway. Legion Varus was “special” in ways no one else understood outside the Hegemony Government. We fought for new contracts in space. We fought for new territories and protected our old ones. The saurian people on Steel World had decided to try to challenge our rights under Galactic Law to monopolize mercenary contracts in the region. We’d stopped them, but in doing so we’d lost Steel World as a client planet. We would have lost much more if they’d beaten us and become a new trading rival on our doorstep. Disaster had been averted, but we were still in for hard times.