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admit it was a chilling sight—like witnessing our own deaths.
    "You promised me, Daddy. You promised!"
    "Your father is a great warrior, Storm," Moontouch replied. "His people have called him. He cannot refuse." She knew, better than I, about personal sacrifice.
    "But he promised!"
    "Pray for us, Moontouch," Priestess whispered.
    "It is your enemies who should pray," Deadeye responded. "They will be scattered like autumn leaves before a mighty wind. Death to all your foes, Slayer! Death to them all!"
    The two A-suits were mute, icy black armor and dead dark ruby faceplates, peppered with awful white scars, testimony to the horrors we had both endured. We would have to bring the suits to the Armor Shop and have them replated. The Legion would make them stronger, but the scars would not disappear. Replating just made them more obvious. Some troopers had A-suits that were so scarred up that the original black was almost all gone. White ghosts, they called them, people who had cheated death so many times there was some question about their humanity. Priestess and I were on our way now—well on our way. And I had really thought I had escaped. Fool! The only escape from the Legion is death.
    "The dead will walk by your side, Slayer," Moontouch said, "All of the power of those who have gone before will be yours to wield. The dead call out to you, my love. I will pray to the dead, every day and every night, for your life, and Priestess's, and death to all your foes. The future is dark, my love. I cannot read it, but one thing is clear. You will make your own road into the future and into the past. I can only promise we will be awaiting you, my love, should Fate return you to us. I will cry a river of tears, and count every hour until you return, though it takes a thousand years." Moontouch was pale and distant, filled with an icy resolve.
    "Please don't go, Daddy! Stay with us! Don't you love us?" Tears streamed down Stormdawn's cheeks. I reached out for the E and picked it up and a hot thrill raced through my fingers and up my arms. I grasped the weapon in both hands and examined it closely. The E Mark 3. She was one nasty, tough, deadly bitch—indestructible! Gas, flame, vac, X, laser, canister, biobloc, biodee, stunstar…everything we needed to confound our foes and keep us alive. A holy icon, a talisman of death and life, a mistress from the dark, my secret lover, mine once again. I could feel the power of the Legion running through the weapon, running through my body. Yes, she was a Goddess from Hell, and I was a soldier from Hell, once again, and I needed her just as much as she needed me.
    "You promised!" I went to my knees and embraced Stormdawn with one arm, still cradling the E with the other. He threw his fragile arms around my neck. Would I ever see my lovely child again?
    "We must be insane!" Priestess gasped in horror, in Moontouch's embrace.
    "We always were," I responded quietly. "Nothing's changed. Nothing's changed at all."

Chapter 2
Trooper Zero

    The Confederation cruiser Spawn was a tiny chip of life, tumbling through the awesome empty infinity of the Outvac. Its precise location, course and mission would always remain highly classified. Priestess and I had no idea where we were going, only that we were to be delivered up to the 22nd Legion's Strategic Reconnaissance Command like fresh sacrifices to the Gods of War. We had, of course, asked for the SRC. The Legion let you choose your own death whenever possible.
    "Trooper Zero, reporting as ordered, sir!"
    "Trooper Zero, reporting as ordered, sir!"
    Priestess and I stood before a young Outworlder manning a bank of d-screens behind an info desk. It was a Legion tradition for new bodies to report in as Trooper Zero. Presumably this designation reminded them of their insignificance in the grand scheme of things. We were clad in our blacks, carrying all our worldly possessions in little nitex belt packs. Soldiers of the Legion travel light. Our only real