Legion Of The Damned - 02 - The Final Battle Read Online Free PDF Page A

attention. Ignoring the ever-increasing hubbub below, and walking stiff legged as if on parade, Booly crossed the intervening distance while untying the pennant tied around his waist.
    It took only moments to free the halyards from their cleat, to lower the tricolor for which so many legionnaires had died, and attach the pennant of those who aspired to follow. Then, after a series of quick, jerky movements, the pennant was up and snapping in the breeze.
    A shout went up from down below. Booly tossed a salute toward the flags, spun, and ran for the small shack-sized structure that provided access to the roof. The door sensed his approach and slid aside. Stairs led downward and Booly took them two at a time. It was clear that escape plan “A,” which called for retracing his path back over the rooftops, had never been realistic to begin with, which meant that his only hope lay in Tom Riley and escape plan “B.”

    Fire doors provided access to hallways on each floor and they were numbered. The first read “10,” and he needed “B-1,” or basement level one. Gravity helped, and Booly went faster and faster, until he was in the midst of what amounted to a controlled fall. Suddenly, a man in a jogging suit stepped through the door labeled 2. Booly hit him head-on.
    Both men went down, and when Booly sat up, he found himself looking into the face of none other than General Ian St. James. Not just a general, but the commanding officer of the entire Legion, and the next thing to god. A god Booly had met on two previous occasions and even shaken hands with. And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, Booly realized that the makeshift hood had disappeared and left his face uncovered.
    An eternity seemed to pass. The general had hard eyes. The mind behind them assessed Booly’s equipment and came to the proper conclusion. His voice was matter-of-fact.
    “Over the roofs. Very ingenious. A first, if I’m not mistaken. Let me be the first to congratulate you on your courage. Were it not for the fact that my eyes have grown older, and therefore less sharp, I would swear that you look exactly like the son of one of the most unreliable sergeant-majors I ever had the misfortune to command. A thankless man who later rose to the highly unlikely ranks of major and ambassador to the Confederacy. But it would be inappropriate to attempt such an identification without my glasses. That being the case, I suggest you rejoin your classmates as quickly as possible.”
    Booly leaped to his feet. The salute came automatically and was inappropriate while out of uniform. “Sir! Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!”
    St. James smiled and jerked his head toward the stairs. The cadet disappeared. The stairs were still vibrating when the general began the first of what would eventually be five trips from bottom to top. It was the only way he could unwind and get to sleep. A staff sergeant appeared from above.
    “Sorry to interrupt your workout, sir. A senior managed to reach the roof. He raised their pennant.”
    St. James did his best to look surprised. “Really? No harm done, I suppose. Haven’t seen anyone, though . . . must have made his way down before I entered the stairwell.”
    The sergeant nodded respectfully. “Yes, sir. The cadets are slippery little devils. I imagine he’s gone by now.”
    St. James smiled and started up the stairs. “You’re right about that. Of course I was one myself once. But that was a long time ago.”
    The sergeant moved to get out of the general’s way. “Yes, sir. Did someone from your class make it all the way onto the roof?”
    St. James smiled as he toiled his way upward. “Yes, Sergeant. Someone certainly did.”

3
    To negotiate is to dance, to move to the music of mutual need, creating harmony where none existed before.
    Lin Po Lee
Philosopher Emeritus
The League of Planets
Standard year 2164
    Clone World Alpha-001, the Clone Hegemony
     
    Moolu Rasha Anguar had an ongoing love-hate relationship with the