Free The Lazarus War: Legion by Jamie Sawyer

minutes. To choose this option, please say ‘yes’ now. ”
    “Fuck you,” I said, leaning over the table and swiping a hand at the psych.
    My hand passed harmlessly through the holo: a perfect reproduction of a real woman, probably downloaded and decoded from somewhere Coreside. I doubted that the real model had ever been a psychiatrist. Her reactions and responses were controlled by the chamber’s medical AI.
    “ Thank you for your business, ” the room said. “ Based on the subject matter of today’s session, can I suggest that you consider using the Weller Enterprises sexual experiences programme? Available at a low, low price; just select option three from the touchscreen menu, or say ‘sex’ now …”
    I got up to leave the room, but as I did the psychiatrist came to life again. Just a recording now, she wasn’t responding to anything that I had done or said: gyrating in front of the metal table, grinding her hips back and forth, tearing at her blouse to reveal her breasts—
    I left the chamber, the door shutting behind me.
    As a simulant operator I was entitled to free and proper psychiatric intervention – indeed, the psych-evals were supposed to be obligatory. But I’d rather pay for private medical care, because I didn’t want to tell the medtechs about what had happened since Helios. The consequences of that might be revocation of my active duty certification.
    No. That would never do. I had to be ready for Elena, ready for Command when they sent for me: when they gave me the all-clear that I could follow her. That I could use the Key.
    The boulevard outside was choked with soldiers and sailors. Overhead, a surveillance drone watched me go.

ANY VODKA
     
    I might have been on active duty but until I had a new mission my time was my own.
    Seeking the familiar, I wandered down to the District.
    But even that had changed.
    Enormous view-screens were mounted in the ceiling, far above: set to show news-feeds. Concerned news reporters, ticker-tape headlines shuttling along the bottom of each screen. Lots of the news was months old, sent on the civilian feeds. We were so far from the Core, even a decent FTL broadcast took that long to reach the Point . The military had their tightbeam transmitters – their instant comms – but the civilian networks were still catching up. It was the same old news.
    A colony-shuttle collision with Ganymede Docks.
    Escalating political tensions between the Alliance and the Directorate.
    Chino and American talking heads, promoting pro-or anti-war sentiments.
    A new viral outbreak on Ventris II.
    Carrie had been on Ventris II. Turn away. Don’t think about her any more. My only sister. The damned psych had stirred something up – reminded me of a memory long forgotten. Reminded me that I was supposed to care about things outside of the spinning top that was Liberty Point .
    “Unless we stand united, the Krell Collective will consume us all!” a voice rasped across the crowd.
    A clutch of religios on the corner of Main and Ninth Intersection. Proper old-school priests; unkempt, with dirty beards, eyes like sapphire.
    “This universe is ours to inherit, but we will only get one chance!” the lead prophet shouted. “Great Gaia has ordained our supremacy! As her children, we have a duty to wipe the xenos from existence!”
    I paused for a moment, looked at the bedraggled figure. God only knew how he had got onto the Point ; it was supposed to be reserved for military personnel and civilian support staff. But more and more of these sorts seemed to be seeping through the cracks. The appearance of the religios was one of the more unusual developments that had occurred on the Point . A wide range of new sects had sprung up: Krell worshippers, Gaia Cults, post-humanists. I didn’t understand any of them. This wasn’t religion as I knew it, nor as Martinez knew it. These people harboured a fervent, dangerous passion: born of the desperate will to carve a bloody empire into