I Am Legion--Book 2--an Archon science fiction novel: I Am Legion, #2

By Scott W. Clark

He's coming. From across the galaxy, he's coming.

Carson Sampers is looking for help from someone, anymore. But he cannot find it.

But he has an idea. It will take some doing. If it works Volloq will be dead.

But Carson is out of time. Volloq is coming and he is close.

He’s in a race to save his family. And there may be others that want him dead.

Can he save them?

I Am Legion is a tale of survival, a tale of an everyman trying to protect his family against a menace that kills without question, without conscience, who grants no mercy.

From the author of The Stranger, The Joining, and The Jewel of the North.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archon Books
• Release date: Feb 19, 2013
• ISBN: 9781536596625

Book preview

Chapter

1

Carson landed his Tyvol in front of a shop. He looked at the coordinates. They were right. From what he saw outside, however, they looked wrong.

That shop was in a neighborhood that was pretty rundown and decayed. There were houses on either side of the street stretching down the block in both directions and they stood there with roofs sagging and caving in.

The neighborhood was crumbling.

But that was true of whole sections of East St. Louis. Carson couldn’t see it coming in as he did but it was true. There had been many renewal projects over the years initiated by the government and overseen by the bureaus but for some places it was decided that it would be better—that is, a more efficient use of resources—to simply move the people to new areas rather than renovate where they were.

That was true of this part of the city.

So people were moved, some of them. Others refused to go. They liked life there; it was their environment, their culture—it was their home. Why leave it and go somewhere else? Why go to some other place where life was different and where there was no family and they had no friends? Why go somewhere where there were no boys to hang out with like those in the Gets, the Mons, and the Baughies?

The vacuum created by those who left was quickly filled with others. These others were people who needed a place to stay for awhile, to crash for awhile, or they were others who needed a place to operate from where the authorities would think twice about coming in and taking a look. Or it was filled in with any numbers of other others who made up the underbelly of civilization, Classifieds and Unclassifieds both who, for whatever reason, wanted to live away from the network and the grid—away from prying eyes.

Carson could see some people out down the block. They were talking and milling about. In the other direction, there were some kids out playing some crude game or other half a block down. Further down from them, some younger men were gathered around what looked like an alleyway. Every so often a couple of them would peal off of the group and turn into the alley. When they left, others would come out.

Probably sonics, thought Carson. Or quadralitium. The nasty stuff. Why that kind of thing always made its way into poor neighborhoods was a great mystery to Carson. Some people in the bureaus had it all figured out, of course, and there was program after program set up in these neighborhoods that were designed to remove despair from people’s lives and to give them some sort of esteem they lacked. But the problem remained.

Carson got out of his Tyvol. The door closed behind him with a thump and the sound of the door settling into the seals. There were other Tyvols parked out in front of the shop. They were older models than his—a decade or more. And they were in various stages of dismantle.

It looked like this place was some kind of a repair shop for the Tyvolean vollociter.

For old Tyvolean vollociters.

Carson knew he had to be careful in that neighborhood or he might just find his own Tyvol missing when he came back out. His was the latest make and latest design and he already noticed a few eyes down the street directed his way.

He debated whether to have the car hover overhead while he went in or to just leave the security system on and let it stay. In the end, he turned on the security system and left it out front. A car hovering overhead would probably draw too much attention from the neighborhood. He didn’t want that.

Carson went over to the door of the shop and walked in.

It was an old shop inside too and it looked like the owner took little care of the place. There was a pile of seals over to the side and a pile of plasti-crates. And there was dust and dirt all over the floor, some of it puffing up as Carson walked in. It looked like there had been no cleaning inside for some time. In other, more upscale places, cleaning was done automatically by the building itself. But here it was obvious there was nothing like that at work.

There was not much else inside other than the parts and the crates, except for a small forma-couch on the right. It was an old one, and it looked like its cleaning function didn’t work anymore.

At the other end of the room, there was a steel counter. On the left there were adverts on the wall for various Tyvol upgrades, all of them out of date. And there were placement kiosks on the right but their windows were clouded over and they look like they didn’t work anymore either.

Other than that, there was nothing else.

Carson stood for a moment wondering what he should do. There was a door behind the counter and he thought that maybe he should go through that one and try to get someone’s attention.

Or maybe he should knock on it.

As he was thinking about it, the decision was made for him. At that moment, the door opened and a man walked in. He was wiping his hands.

He was a man of middle height, in his thirties, with a face that seemed to hang down to a long chin at the bottom of it. It was a face that looked like it had seen some life.

And it was a face that Carson recognized.

Leonard Philby, he said and he sucked air through his teeth.

The man stopped and stared at Carson. A look of incomprehension came across his face. And then there was recognition.

Then fear.

"I done my time, Sampers. You made sure of that. I’m clean. If you’re looking to find something on me now, you ain’t goin’ to find it.

"I fix Tyvols; learned to do it on the inside. I’m legit. They brought one in to show us how. I’ve turned a new leaf. I’m a law-abiding citizen.

So you’ll get nothin’ on me, Sampers.

Carson himself was in shock. He was on his way to do something illegal—necessary, but illegal—and the man he meets is one he once prosecuted.

That was enough for shock.

Now what could he do? Leonard Philby had been charged years earlier with several counts of money laundering. He had been convicted and sent to penal for ten years. Last Carson had heard, he had been let out early for being a model inmate.

And now Carson was there to ask him to do what he had prosecuted him for doing those years ago.

Carson had come there to ask the man he met to help him launder money. That was the long and the short of it and that was what he had intended to do.

But now it was different. Philby knew him. He knew who he was. What he had intended to do was something that would be anonymous. But not anymore.

Leonard Philby. What were the odds? Carson didn’t know but it wasn’t as if he was going to meet someone whose profession was all that common. Money launderers were not everywhere. But still, to go across the country and meet someone he had prosecuted for it?

What should he do now?

Carson thought about it. He could call Jace and get him to find someone else. But what if he couldn’t find anyone or didn’t know of anyone else? What if this was it?

And Carson had no time. He didn’t have the time to take detours like that. He had to get what he needed fast. Volloq would not wait. Volloq was coming and would not wait for him to get things set up just right.

Carson had to act fast.

So what would he do? He would save his family. He would do what he needed to do to save them and the consequences would have to be what they had to be. He needed Philby; he needed what Philby could do for him. It would have to be him. There was no time to find anyone else. It would have to be Philby. There was no other choice.

Is there someplace we can talk? asked Carson.

Talk about what, counselor? I’m clean.

I need a favor from you.

Philby looked at him and laughed. "Well, if that ain’t rich. You, someone who took my life away, come to ask me for a favor.

"That’s a laugher.

Okay, I’ll listen. Might be good for some more laughs.

He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder.

Back here, he said motioning Carson to come behind the counter.

Carson followed him as he went through the door to a large shop area behind. There were some older Tyvols sitting on magno-lifts on the other end. It was dirty back there and parts were scattered all over the floor. Some large machines took up most of the space and they were dirty too.

Philby took him through that part of the shop and then through another door at the back. That door opened up on a hall.

A woman came out from a door to the right as they came through. She smiled at Philby. A little girl who came out with her did the same. That little girl looked like she was the same age as Jenny.

Both of them frowned when they saw Carson.

Philby said nothing but waved to them. Then he turned and walked down the hallway to another door. He opened that and motioned Carson in.

Carson walked into a small living room. That room was better appointed than the shop lobby had been, though not by much. But it was cleaner. It still had the rundown look of the rest of the place but it was much cleaner. It was obvious that more care had been taken there than in the rest of the place.

There was a couch on the other side near the wall. Philby motioned for Carson to sit down but he remained standing.

His arms were folded in front of him.

You have a family, Philby, said Carson sitting down but feeling uncomfortable talking to a standing Philby.

My family is not for discussion, said Philby.

I have a family, too.

Philby said nothing to that. His arms were still folded.

I’m in trouble, said Carson deciding to come directly to the point, "and I need something you might be able to supply me.

"A few days ago, an Unclassified escaped from a maximum penal. He killed five hundred people at a paraspace gate station. He killed ten thousand a number of years before that and was convicted and sentenced to max-penal for life.

"He is coming for me and for my family. The government will do nothing to help. I am on my own.

I have to kill him before he gets to them. I need to get some things that might not be on the up and up to do that. And I need your help to do that.

You mean things that are illegal, said Philby a smile coming to his face. "You must be kidding. Or this is a sting. Is it, Sampers? Is it a sting? Because if it ain’t, you’ve come to dance on my grave.

"You prosecuted me once for doing this.

"This has got to be a sting. It can’t be nothin’ else.

"Get out of my house, Sampers. I have a family; I have a business. It’s not much but it’s mine. And I got a hole in my life that was carved out of it piece by piece by you. That’s something that don’t mend so easy, Sampers.

So get out of my house.

He turned toward the door.

Look, Philby, said Carson standing up. "I don’t have any time. I have to take him on myself. There’s no one who will do it for me. I have to do this. I have to protect my family. And I have to have help.

"You have a daughter. She’s probably your life. She’s a cute girl and looks like she would be the center of it.

"I have a daughter too. She’s nine, Philby; nine years old. This alien is coming for her and I have to stop him.

"You would do the same thing in my place, Philby. You would save your little girl.

"Maybe that means I’m a hypocrite; it probably does. But they can’t protect themselves, Philby, these children. They rely on us, their fathers, to protect them. And a violent force is coming for her and for my wife. He has no conscience and will not spare her or any of my family.

I have to do something to protect them. I have to do it.

Philby looked at Carson for a moment and then he looked down at the floor. He toed the carpet that was there.

When he was finished, he unfolded his arms and went over and sat down on the couch.

What is it you want?

Sarcass power units. I need a couple of thousand of them.

It’s not legal to possess more than a few of them, you know.

I know.

Let me ask you one thing, Sampers, said Philby looking straight at Carson. If I had asked you for mercy because of my family when you prosecuted me all those years back, would you have given it to me.?

No, Philby, I wouldn’t have even considered it.

Not even for my family?

Not even for that, I’m sorry to say. And I would have been wrong, Philby, not to have considered it.

Philby looked at Carson again. He seemed to be figuring something out. When it looked like he had decided, he spoke.

Don’t contact me again. I will get it set up and we will meet at the Gateway Arch. You know what I’m talking about?

"That big arch on the other side of the river?

That’s it.

I need it today.

You’ll have it today. Give me an hour.

Thank you, Philby. I...uh... owe you. A lot.

Philby looked at him and bit his lip. Well you can say something about that after I get things set up.

Okay, said Carson and he stood up.

Philby got up and opened the door. He walked out and led Carson back to the door they had come in.

No one was in the hallway.

You can find your own way out. said Philby opening the door for him. It was a statement, not a question.

Yes.

One hour, said Philby and he turned and walked away.

Carson made his way through the shop and out the door into the waiting area and then out the front door. When he was outside, he opened the door and climbed into his Tyvol. He engaged the servos and lifted off a few seconds later.

Carson had no place to go other than to the place where he would meet Philby. And he wanted to go no other place. He just wanted to get this done and over with so he could buy what he needed.

He set course for the Gateway Arch and landed near it a few minutes later.

Instead of getting out, he waited inside his car.

It was a good thing he didn’t go anywhere else because a half an hour after Carson arrived, another Tyvol landed.

Philby got out. He was early.

He walked over to where Carson was parked. He had a metal case with him.

Carson got out and met him.

Here they are, said Philby opening the case.

They were sitting in rows, small power units. Sarcass. As good as gold in any number of places and the only legal tender of the realm where the things Carson needed were to be bought.

Carson nodded and Philby closed the case.

You have your account with you, I hope?

I do, said Carson and he pulled a small device out of his pocket.

Good, said Philby. He pulled out his own and slotted it into Carson’s.

It’ll be a series of transactions which will end up untraceable. They will be billed to you for some innocuous expenses. They aren’t real, of course...I could explain the whole process to you if, you’d like?

There’s no need, said Carson. I trust you.

And he smiled a smile that was uncomfortable for him.

You mean ‘honor among thieves,’ Sampers?

Maybe something like that.

After a minute, Philby uncoupled his device and put it back in his pocket. He handed Carson’s back to him.

Here you are, he said and he handed the metal case to Carson.

Thank you, Philby, he said.

I did it for your girl, Sampers, said Philby, "not for you. And I got my cut of this, so I was paid.

But this is it; I don’t want to see you again.

There was nothing else for Carson to say though he thought something ought to be said. Philby had helped him; he had helped a man who had taken part of his life from him.

Carson could think of nothing other than putting two fingers to his forehead in a salute. And he smiled that uncomfortable smile again.

Philby said nothing else and did not respond to Carson. He just turned his back