The Legion of Nothing

We stepped out of the hatch into the hangar. A thin layer of moon dust covered the floor, capturing our footprints. It wasn’t a good sign if I were hoping to find working machinery, but it might be a good sign if I were hoping that the building’s defenses were in bad shape.

Given that the base was thousands of years old and that it had opened up the doors to the hangar with no issue, I decided not to be optimistic. The universe wouldn’t be handing out that kind of favor unless it planned to collect on it with interest at the worst possible moment.

At almost the same time, another thought struck me, “Hey everybody before you start walking around, look at the ground. There’s no wind so any footprints you see won’t be disturbed by anything. We might see something useful.”

Jaclyn spoke over the comm, “You’ve all got gravity packs. Float.”

“Pretend you’re me,” Rachel said, floating above the ground. I could see the wall through her.

Cassie, who’d jumped out first said, “You might have said that earlier.”

“I didn’t think of it until now,” I said, activating my anti-gravity and floating upward.

“Whatever,” Cassie floated upward, still holding her gun. Mr. Sparkles was an Abominator relic she’d once described as looking like an accessory for Space Soldier Barbie.

She wasn’t wrong. The gun’s shimmery blue-green metal did have that vibe. The color scheme clashed with the blue in Cassie’s red, white, and blue costume, but I didn’t bring that up. I’d already moved on to the next thought.

In the background, I heard Rachel ask Cassie, “Where do we go next? I assume the ominous dark hallway ahead, but is it a straight ahead or are we heading deep into the middle of the mountain?”

Cassie said, “I’ll ask.”

While they had that conversation, I’d commanded my implant to help me identify all the footprints in the room. Then I checked on both sides of the jet. The implant noted several sets of footprints, drawing them to my attention.

The first set got out of a vehicle with the same landing gear we had—to judge from the prints in the dust. Knowing how small the list of possible candidates was, I knew that had to be the original League in the same jet. The footprints leading from that had to be Grandpa and Grandma Vander Sloot, C, Night Wolf, and the Mentalist.

That wasn’t all. Another vehicle had left marks in the dust. This one didn’t have wheels. I couldn’t know for sure, but the landing gear appeared to be a flat line like the runner of a sled except wider. Boot marks extended outward from it. The boots were wide, making me think of early space suits or maybe powered armor.

Was I seeing some unknown visitors? Could it have been Russian Victory and Yoselin’s father? Despite the sled-like tracks, it couldn’t have been Santa Claus.

Looking further behind it revealed more tracks and wheel marks that might have been a third group from the League jet. From the position, it appeared to have stopped directly behind the Russian moon sled or whatever it was.

“Rocket?” Rachel waved her hand at me, “What have you got?”

“No idea. It looks like boot and ship prints from two visits by the original team and one visit from someone else—maybe the Russians,” I held up my hands in defeat.

Rachel glanced toward the dark hallway at the end of the hangar and back to me, “Anything that looks recent?”

“I don’t have any way of telling the age, but I doubt it.” I did a quick once-over of the room to see if there were any other footprints or vehicle marks. I found none.

Cassie’s voice came over the comm, “Hey, everybody, I got the lights to turn on. All we have to do is follow them.”

We all turned toward the hallway at the end of the hangar. It was no longer dark. A hazy glow came from the top of the hallway’s arch.

Marcus peered at it, “You’d think they’d have a better lighting system. Maybe they didn’t see the same as we do?”

In that moment, everyone but Rachel downloaded information from their implants that let them know that the Abominators’ visual spectrum didn’t entirely match humans’ visual spectrum, and neither did their lighting.

Marcus shook his head, “I guess not. We should go.”

We did, floating toward the hallway which, in keeping with the idea that the alien architect may have been high all the time, the arch of the hallway did not stay in the center. It moved from one side to another with no pattern.

The moon dust became thinner near the hallway, but not before I noticed a final set of footprints. These weren’t human and I knew them. They were made by powered armor and I recognized the design—Rook’s. If I were correct, it was reminiscent of a bird’s claw, the kind used by Rook’s minions.

The prints came out of the hallway and then went back in—so they’d come in through another entrance.