Free Legion Of The Damned - 02 - The Final Battle by William C. Dietz Page A

“Riley?”
    “Yeah?”
    “You okay?”
    “No.”
    “Well, hang on, the MPs will be here in a minute.”
    The sirens grew louder, died abruptly, and gave way to the sound of turbines. They howled loudly and then died as a pair of ground-effect vehicles settled onto their skirts. Booly heard doors slam, the sound of voices, and the thump, thump, thump of combat boots. Riley sounded tired. “Booly?”
    “Yeah?”
    “The MPs are marines.”
    “Oh, shit.”
    “Yeah.”
    And there was nothing else to say, because the MPs took one look at their fallen comrade, still rolling around clutching his eyes, and went to work with their batons. Booly saw the first couple of blows. The third took him under.

5
    In war important events are produced by trivial causes.
    Julius Caesar
Standard year circa 74 BC .
    Planet Earth, the Confederacy of Sentient Beings
     
    The being once known as Sergi Chien-Chu, president of Chien-Chu Enterprises, liberator of enslaved sentients, and father of the Confederacy, awoke. Chemicals flowed and electrons stirred as the machine that cradled his brain moved to a higher state of readiness.
    He thought the word vision and “saw” through the vid cams that replaced his long-dead eyes. It was nearly pitch black inside the bedroom so he switched to infrared. The com console, the warm air duct, and his wife’s electric blanket glowed luminescent green. He thought the word time and a digital readout appeared in lower right quadrant of his vision: 0544. Sixteen minutes before he had to get up and go to work. Except that he was “up” and standing in a corner. Though not much larger than his original body, the cybernetic version was a good deal heavier and not much fun to snuggle with. Which was why he had taken to sleeping standing up.
    Chien-Chu scanned Nola’s still-sleeping form and thought how strange his existence was. When a massive heart attack had claimed his life, Madam Chien-Chu had used a small portion of their vast wealth to bring him back. The technology had been around for a long time and had originally been used to snatch criminals and terminally ill citizens from the brink of death so they could serve the former empire as cybernetic legionnaires. But nothing beyond the high cost of buying and maintaining a cybernetic body prevented others from prolonging their lives in similar fashion.
    This fact made Chien-Chu distinctly uncomfortable and explained why the company that still bore his name had invested millions of credits in cybernetic research. The day was coming when anyone, not just the wealthy, would be able to extend his or her life by ten, twenty, or even thirty years, depending on the condition and viability of his or her brain tissue. Then all these people would learn what the industrialist already knew, that physical pleasures such as eating, drinking, and sex are nothing when compared to the simple but now unattainable comfort of snuggling with a loved one.

    Not that life wasn’t better in some respects, since Nola had raised him from the dead with a veil of carefully maintained secrecy, and freed him from the life that he had learned to hate. She knew that he detested politics and would never have gotten involved if it hadn’t been for the death of their son at the hands of the Hudathans, and the possibility that millions if not billions more would die before the then-emperor finally took action.
    So with a fine being like Anguar ready to take over, Nola had made the right decision. Besides, the industrialist had enjoyed watching his own incredibly overproduced funeral on the television, and been moved by the number of beings that actually seemed to care.
    The readout snapped to 0600 and Chien-Chu initiated the diagnostic programs that had taken the place of his morning shower. It took 1.5 seconds for his on-board computer to check his electro-mechanical systems and deliver five green lights to the lower left quadrant of his vision. Chien-Chu sent a mental acknowledgment