Free Curse of the Legion by Marshall S. Thomas Page B

far away in a deep cobalt sky. The massive planet glowed a luminous ochre in the sunlight and silvery seas flashed like watery mirrors. I could clearly see the thin sheet of atmosphere against the dark sky. Another lovely world—a miracle, created by God and touched with life. It was ours, one of the leading planets of the Crista Cluster, home to Fleetcom and Galactic Information and a host of other ConFree instruments. Instruments , I reminded myself, not institutions. Let's keep it that way!
    The Bad Girl dropped gracefully from orbit, circling the planet lazily, slowly losing altitude as it slid from dayside to nightside, the leading edges of the massive white wings starting to glow pink as we entered the atmosphere, a black Legion cross displayed prominently for all to see. We weren't ashamed of our colors. Tacships could hardland downside, for maximum efficiency, and that's what we were doing.
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    "Wester! How wonderful to see you! I'm so sick of all these people! Lori, hold all calls!" Tara was looking her best, as usual, but I was determined not to let it affect me. Legion Personnel had sent me on directly to see the Deputy Minister of Galactic Information and here I was, in Tara's spacious office as she barked orders to her secretary in the outer office and came around from behind her desk to greet me in person.
    "Trooper Zero, reporting as ordered, Sir," I said coldly.
    "Oh, give it a rest, Wester. Let's sit over here." She hooked an arm around one of mine and guided me over to an airsofa by a wide armored window with a spectacular view of Quaba Port and the city of Forest Landing beyond it, hidden in greenery. "How are Priestess and Millie? How are the kids?"
    "They're fine, Tara. And how is Willard?" Willard was Tara's adopted son. We had found him on an Omni starship, orphaned by the O's holocaust, and he had been with Tara since then.
    "He wants to join the Legion, Wester."
    "I thought you were going to talk him out of that."
    "It's hopeless, Wester. We're all branded with the Legion cross. It's impossible to resist—it's like a curse, the curse of the Legion." She suddenly sounded very weary.
    "Why didn't you tell me about this assignment when you visited us? The girls are kind of—upset," I said.
    "I didn't know, Wester. I honestly didn't know. This just came up. You know I trust you. I'm meeting so many people, it's becoming increasingly hard to tell who's dependable and who isn't."
    "I'm happy teaching the kids, Tara."
    "I know you are, Wester, and I'm sorry. Please apologize for me to Priestess and Millie. But it can't be helped! We're going to war, Wester—we're actually already at war, and there's so much else going on as well. I need you. The Legion needs you. ConFree needs you. Your people need you!"
    "What have you got?" I knew it was impossible to fight her. Just accept it.
    She gave me a dazzling smile. "I knew I could depend on you, Wester! All right, here's your package." She pulled a fat datapak off a nearby table and dropped it onto my lap. "You've just been transferred to the Ministry of Galactic Information, with a rank of Commander. You've also been attached to the Ministry of Interstellar Relations, with a title of Attache. As far as anyone outside ConFree is concerned, you'll be on a diplomatic mission for the Ministry of Interstellar Relations. And if anyone asks, you're a Legion Commander on TDY to our Embassy in Santos. Your name is James Wester; I hope that's tenners with you."
    Santos! I tried to gather my thoughts. The rank of Commander came just over Senior Captain and just under General, in the Legion, or Admiral, in Fleetcom. I had been a Captain before—it was quite a jump. And now I was a diplomat, working for Galactic Information, Interstellar Relations, and the Legion, as a Commander, an Attache, and probably a lot of other things.
    "How long is this TDY?" I asked. First things first.
    "Just as long as it takes you to compile your report, Wester. Here's what I