Legion Of The Damned - 02 - The Final Battle by William C. Dietz Page B
Authors: William C. Dietz
Ads: Link
Additional weaponry if any would be issued on-station.
Once that process was complete, and the platform had stopped, Booly was directed to pass through another door. The second room was very much like the first, except that there was no platform, and the resident android had no human qualities whatsoever. It consisted of some tubes, a shiny metal arm that extended from the ceiling, and a sensor-equipped air gun. Like his peers, Booly had been inoculated many times during the last six years and undid his shirt before being asked to do so.
“Welcome to out-processing station three. You will receive a full set of inoculations appropriate to Clone World Alpha-001. If this is not your destination, or you have entered the room by mistake, please say so now.”
Booly remained silent and the computer-controlled equipment picked up where it had left off. “Please expose both your shoulders.”
The sling was a hassle but Booly got the job done. The robotic arm whined as it moved into place and the air gun felt cold against his skin. “Please stand still. The air-injection system will lacerate your skin if you move.”
Booly stood perfectly still, flinched when the gun went off, and braced himself as it was positioned on his wounded arm. The injector fired again, the arm whirred up and away, and the officer checked to see if he was bleeding. He wasn’t. The machine intoned its final blessing. “Thank you, and have a nice day.”
The officer was still struggling to get all of his buttons buttoned as he stepped out of the cubicle and into a room staffed with a real person. The private was twenty-something, reasonably attractive, and immune to Lieutenants. She noticed his fur but did a good job of hiding her curiosity. A com set, computer console, and mysterious black box sat on top of her well-worn desk. “Lieutenant Booly?”
“Yes?”
“Please take a seat, insert your right hand into the box, and remain still.” Booly could have demanded an explanation and would have received one but found it difficult to overcome six years of unquestioning obedience. He did as he was told.
The black box hummed, something warm wrapped itself around his wrist, and a tingle ran up his arm. The private looked at her computer, then at him. “Each unit is keyed to a single person. Did you feel a tingling sensation, sir? Good. That was the page function. You may remove your hand. Your orders have been downloaded into your wrist term, along with a copy of your service record, Legion regs, and a few other odds and ends. This booklet covers the operational stuff. Questions, sir?”
Booly withdrew his hand and found that a small flat black box had been attached to his right wrist. It was identical to the units worn by enlisted people except that it had a command channel and more memory. Data that would automatically self-destruct if his vital signs fell below certain limits. Booly touched the case, watched the full-color screen come to life, and saw a five-item menu.
• PERSONAL
• COMMUNICATIONS
• NAVIGATION
• COMMAND
• E-LOCATOR
He knew that four of the five listings would provide access to sub-menus but would figure them out later. “No, thank you. I’ll read the booklet.”
The private looked relieved. She hated explaining things to lieutenants. They were so damned stupid. She smiled politely. “Thank you, sir. Have a nice day.”
Booly nodded, adjusted his sling, and walked out into a sparsely populated hallway. Parker was waiting and led him off to get his uniforms and other gear. His career, already tarnished and somewhat in doubt, had started.
7
Where troops have been quartered, brambles and thorns spring up. In the track of great armies there must follow lean years.
Lao-tse
Standard year circa 604 B.C.
Worberʼs World, the Confederacy of Sentient Beings
True to their programming, and eager to carry out their missions, millions of maggotlike microbots burrowed down into the planet’s slowly dying flesh.
Once that process was complete, and the platform had stopped, Booly was directed to pass through another door. The second room was very much like the first, except that there was no platform, and the resident android had no human qualities whatsoever. It consisted of some tubes, a shiny metal arm that extended from the ceiling, and a sensor-equipped air gun. Like his peers, Booly had been inoculated many times during the last six years and undid his shirt before being asked to do so.
“Welcome to out-processing station three. You will receive a full set of inoculations appropriate to Clone World Alpha-001. If this is not your destination, or you have entered the room by mistake, please say so now.”
Booly remained silent and the computer-controlled equipment picked up where it had left off. “Please expose both your shoulders.”
The sling was a hassle but Booly got the job done. The robotic arm whined as it moved into place and the air gun felt cold against his skin. “Please stand still. The air-injection system will lacerate your skin if you move.”
Booly stood perfectly still, flinched when the gun went off, and braced himself as it was positioned on his wounded arm. The injector fired again, the arm whirred up and away, and the officer checked to see if he was bleeding. He wasn’t. The machine intoned its final blessing. “Thank you, and have a nice day.”
The officer was still struggling to get all of his buttons buttoned as he stepped out of the cubicle and into a room staffed with a real person. The private was twenty-something, reasonably attractive, and immune to Lieutenants. She noticed his fur but did a good job of hiding her curiosity. A com set, computer console, and mysterious black box sat on top of her well-worn desk. “Lieutenant Booly?”
“Yes?”
“Please take a seat, insert your right hand into the box, and remain still.” Booly could have demanded an explanation and would have received one but found it difficult to overcome six years of unquestioning obedience. He did as he was told.
The black box hummed, something warm wrapped itself around his wrist, and a tingle ran up his arm. The private looked at her computer, then at him. “Each unit is keyed to a single person. Did you feel a tingling sensation, sir? Good. That was the page function. You may remove your hand. Your orders have been downloaded into your wrist term, along with a copy of your service record, Legion regs, and a few other odds and ends. This booklet covers the operational stuff. Questions, sir?”
Booly withdrew his hand and found that a small flat black box had been attached to his right wrist. It was identical to the units worn by enlisted people except that it had a command channel and more memory. Data that would automatically self-destruct if his vital signs fell below certain limits. Booly touched the case, watched the full-color screen come to life, and saw a five-item menu.
• PERSONAL
• COMMUNICATIONS
• NAVIGATION
• COMMAND
• E-LOCATOR
He knew that four of the five listings would provide access to sub-menus but would figure them out later. “No, thank you. I’ll read the booklet.”
The private looked relieved. She hated explaining things to lieutenants. They were so damned stupid. She smiled politely. “Thank you, sir. Have a nice day.”
Booly nodded, adjusted his sling, and walked out into a sparsely populated hallway. Parker was waiting and led him off to get his uniforms and other gear. His career, already tarnished and somewhat in doubt, had started.
7
Where troops have been quartered, brambles and thorns spring up. In the track of great armies there must follow lean years.
Lao-tse
Standard year circa 604 B.C.
Worberʼs World, the Confederacy of Sentient Beings
True to their programming, and eager to carry out their missions, millions of maggotlike microbots burrowed down into the planet’s slowly dying flesh.
Similar Books
