by Tim C Taylor
I reached for my med-kit and was surprised to find it was still there at my belt, but dismayed at how difficult all movement was. I couldn’t feel my legs. That monster had ripped into my guts, but I couldn’t feel that either.
And the numbness was spreading fast from d’Jek’s claw wound.
With trembling hands, I snapped off a pouch from my belt and tipped its contents onto the bloody floor.
“What? Are you gonna smoke your way to the end?” said Sarah in a strained voice when she saw my clay pipe fall out.
“You got a better idea?” I opened the tin of synth-tobacco.
“Yeah,” she said, gasping now as she looked across at her sword lying in a pool of alien blood. “Kill me first. Then do what the hell you like.”
I unscrewed a miniature tub, no bigger than my thumbnail, and drew out one of the flakes inside with my shaking fingers. It looked like tobacco leaf. It wasn’t.
I tipped my head back, and rested the flake over my eyeball.
“You do know we’re not going to die, Legionary?”
I ignored the mumbling rebel as the nanoscale machines of the medical nanite patch burned through my optic nerve.
“First we morph into a hybrid…”
Sarah’s eyes still glowed like burning sulfur, but her light was dying.
“Spare me the horror,” she gasped. “Kill me! Please!”
On my knees, because I could no longer stand, I grabbed her sword, and lifted it as high as I could.
“Thank you,” she breathed. The light left her eyes.
I brought the blade tip down, angling at her neck.
Even as I began to arc the sword down, I knew I was about to do something supremely stupid. It wasn’t the first time. Psych eval says I’ve done so many bad things that when I’m weakened, sometimes my need for redemption gets the better of me.
The sword clattered to the rocky floor.
I shuffled on my knees to the precious tub of nanite patches. Seven flakes remained. I was probably the only person within fifty light years who knew this ancient technology still existed, let alone possessed some.
It seemed my hesitation would prove fatal for the girl, because when I tried reaching for a patch, my hands and arms had transformed into distant clubs, beyond the power to grip anything.
I sank to all fours and snuffled up a flake between my lips, scattering the precious contents over the floor. Every inch I moved was now an epic test of willpower, but I somehow positioned myself over the girl and used my mouth to place the nanite patch over one of her sightless eyes.
I kept conscious long enough to see the patch wrap itself around the curve of the eye and start to burn its way in.
Then I was falling on top of her.
I was gone before I could feel our bodies touch.
* * *
I woke up screaming, yelling that I was trapped inside an ice hell.
I sat up, blinked, and found myself shivering with cold in a medical ward bed.
Through the door to the corridor outside, I could hear someone coming for me.
I looked for a weapon, found none to hand, and then, as the door opened, dared to lift the sheets and force myself to look at my ruined abdomen.
There was barely a scar.
Doran entered the room. One of the medics. I didn’t know him well.
“How are you—?” he started to ask, but I interrupted him by projectile vomiting an incredible distance that splattered the door and missed him by inches.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “Must be the most disgusting thing you’ve ever seen.”
“Hardly,” he replied, laughing. “You don’t even hold the distance record for chucking up. An hour ago, you would have. But not after that rebel prisoner you brought in came around. Reckon she beat you by eight inches.”
“Sarah?”
“Oh, Sarah is it?” The medic grinned. “Got a thing for rebel girls, have you? Would you like a little time together?”
I was searching my muzzy head for an appropriately sarcastic riposte when I realized this wasn’t banter—he was asking me a genuine question.
“Suppose I told you I did have a thing for the girl. Would you bring her to me?”
The medic bowed his head. “Of course, Bronze.”
My skin tingled with fear. I didn’t know Doran well, but he was a medic and I knew that species. Brave. Resourceful. Dedicated to the path of the healer-warrior. And unwilling to give those in their care a nanometer of leeway.
I pressed further. “And would you look the other way while Sarah and I had a little fun?”
“Anything for you.” Daran ran a medical scanner over my head. His sleeve rode up his arm a little. It was even harder to force myself to stare at the flesh he revealed than it had been to inspect my wounds.
Feathers.
Fluffy down, that was all. If I hadn’t been looking for it, I wouldn’t have noticed. A few hours later—I learned afterwards—and whatever it was that was wearing Doran’s body would have become sly, aware of the need to hide amongst those not yet corrupted by d’Jek’s genetic infiltration. But at that point, the hybrid checking my med-stats still thought of itself as Legionary Specialist Asus Doran.
I nodded at the other beds in the ward—all empty. “Was I the only one to make it back?”
Doran reacted as if I’d slapped his face between a pair of bricks. He answered, but his response felt unwilling.
“Three legionaries missing, presumed dead. Three more killed in action. Everyone else is raring to get out there and deliver a total kill solution to the rebels who dared to ambush us.”
“And the cultists? The Jekkists?”
The medic shook his head. “I mean no disrespect, Bronze, but your concussion has left you confused. There were no cultists in the caves of Azoth-Zol. Only rebels. One of whom you brought back. I was just about to inform the captain that she is ready for questioning when you woke. Half the company is queuing up to interrogate her. By the time they’ve done, she’ll be begging for death, but we’ll know where to strike for maximum impact.”
“Awesome,” I replied. “Doran… What I said earlier about the girl… I was serious. Could I have a little private time with her before you tell the captain she’s ready?”
He bowed, deeply this time. “Of course, Bronze. Immediately.”
The medic was as good as his word, not so much escorting in a prisoner as bowing and scraping before an esteemed VIP, as if the rebel were the Empress herself.
“You’re the expert,” I prompted Sarah as soon as the door closed behind Doran. “Why is he treating us so deferentially?”
She sauntered over, dressed in torn and bloodstained clothes she’d worn in the caves. She ran her hand over my naked chest and arms, examining the hairs with her fingers.
“Find any feathers?” I asked, suddenly terrified how she might answer.
“No. You’re good.” She didn’t stop brushing her fingertips over my flesh. “I think the answer to your question is that we were infected directly by the monster himself, not one of his hybrids.”
“So… we have a more dominant scent. Is that it?”
“I think so,” she said, perching on the bed beside me.
“You know what I think?” I pulled her across to straddle me. “I think maybe you might be one of those hybrid monsters.”
Her face lit up with a teasing smile. “Well, you know how to check.” She shrugged off her jacket and lifted one of my hands to her chest.
“You saved my life,” she said.
“Maybe I did,” I replied, smoothing both my hands over her bare arms. “And maybe I didn’t. I haven’t finished checking you.”
She gently pushed my arms away. “Everyone you knew has already been turned. You do realize that.”
I nodded. “And yours?”
She looked away. “Doran told me. The freighter our team came in jumped out system while we were unconscious. I’m on my own.” I allowed her to rest her forehead against my shoulder, not
because I cared about her, but because I needed her strong. And she was. She shuddered twice, wiped away a tear, and was good to go.
“You’re on your own too,” she told me, fixing me with a stare. “You’re a freelance legionary. Ronin.”
I frowned. “Yeah. I’m ronin. Which gives me leeway to team up with an enemy. Because that’s what we’ve gotta do. You and I, Sarah, we have to stop this monster… What? Why are you staring like that?”
Her beautiful eyes shone brightly. “Ronin legionary…” She looked me up and down, her cheeks coloring. “That’s kinda hot.”
We both caught ourselves and cooled our passion. We had a job to do. If Sarah’s intel was right, we were currently inside a secure legionary base controlled by genetic hybrids who would be the vanguard of a planetwide takeover in a few days. Our life expectancy: minimal. Our chance of success: low and getting lower every moment we delayed.
On the other hand, we had barely fought off genetic takeover by Santohl d’Jek, and we were the only two people alive who could understand the horror that had almost claimed us.
We tore off clothing and bedding and reminded ourselves that we were human.
Multiple times.
* * *
The more Sarah briefed me, the fewer options it turned out we had.
The monster that called itself d’Jek was moving into its final phase. That’s what the ceremony in the caverns had been about—a five-day ritual that would release d’Jek and his senior hybrids from the flesh of their host victims and reveal their true nature. She hardly needed to point out that this was only happening now because the monster was satisfied with its preparations and was confident of victory. Thousands, maybe tens of thousands, of hybrids had been planted around the planet. Sarah speculated that d’Jek had waited to turn the legionaries and the rebels because he needed soldiers to be sure of seizing the spaceport. Once the spaceport was in d’Jek’s hands, his influence would spread through space, jump by jump until it was unstoppable.
The monster would be vulnerable only during the ritual of metamorphosis.
After that, the entire sector, maybe the entire Federation, was doomed.
Our plan was simple: blow up the vile skragger.
* * *
“This is as far as you go,” I said, pushing Sarah before me into an empty cave off one of the main tunnels leading to the central cavern and d’Jek.
We were five hundred yards from the target zone, close enough that the rock hummed with the chanting, and far too close for Sarah to still be here. She was supposed to have left me long before this but refused to leave me on my own.
The influence of our dominant scent had carried us this far past the sentries in the tunnels, even though by mutual consent we had decided not to blend in visually by adopting the Jekkists’ minimal attire. We were clothed. I wouldn’t have objected to wearing nothing but a cloak and boots like Sergeant Chinook, but even the deferential cultists might raise the alarm if they saw the bomb vest I was carrying under my jacket. As for Sarah, a scathing glare had been her only response when I told her I would find it highly beneficial if she adopted the cultist style of dress.
With so many unknowns, simplicity was key. I would get as close to d’Jek as possible and then blow him sky high.
Sarah’s task had been to watch my back with a pair of concealed handguns. She also had gas mask, air supply, and burn patches, because one of us had to get out alive to warn the galaxy what had happened here.
“Ready?” I asked her. I wanted to hold her in my arms, to feel human warmth once more, but we were too close to risk it now.
She backed up to the far wall and looked up at me. She didn’t look ready. “I don’t trust the Federation authorities,” she whispered,
“I am not the Federation authorities. I’m a ronin legionary. Remember?”
“I remember.” She gave a wicked smile. “Sorry, Bronze, I can’t trust a jack-head legionary to do an honest woman’s job. Not even you.”
“What are you talking about? I’ll do it, okay? Someone’s got to spread the truth about d’Jek. Sarah, you’re a rebel, which makes you a dangerous idiot easily lured by lies. But you’re human and…” I looked at her shining with passion. She was magnificent. “I want you to live.”
“I get that,” she said. And shot me.
Damned bitch blew a hole in my thigh! I gritted my teeth through the pain and reached for my sidearm. But of course, we’d decided it was too risky to go armed into the inner sanctum,
I’d given my handgun to her.
“Take off the bomb, Bronze. You’re never going to sneak in there crawling on a bloodied leg.”
“Skragg you!
I tested the leg. She was right.
I unclipped the bomb vest. It took all I could muster to stop myself throwing it at her. I was furious.
“Touchy!” She wagged a finger at me. Madwoman! “Sorry you didn’t get to be a hero today, Bronze. But if you want a job doing properly, you got to do it yourself.” She dropped her survival gear on the floor. “Don’t forget me,” she said, and, struggling under the weight of the explosives, walked off without looking back.
3
“Seriously?”
Cato Jarvik slammed his brandy onto the bar, immediately glancing to either side. Under cover of running a hand through his glossy black hair, he checked that his Panhandler pals had appreciated his dramatic gesture.
Gestures…
The rebels were a little too in love with them.
Jarvik waved his empty glass at the barkeep and then sneered at me. “You let her shoot you?”
I nodded at one of the other rebels, a woman in a thick red jerkin who had stood covering me with a blaster while I’d relived those hellish caverns. “What about her, bigshot? Don’t your footsoldiers get a drink too? I thought you Panhandlers were all about freedom, justice and drinks for all.”
“Why, Bronze? Why did you let Sarah shoot you?”
“There’s no let in getting shot,” I replied angrily.
“Of course there is. You’re a legionary. And good at your trade.” He patted the bulge in his jacket pocket. “You planted this grenade on me. Normal people can’t do things like that. You talk as if you can take on all four of us and survive.” He shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure that you’re bluffing. And you expect me to believe that she shot you and you didn’t see it coming?”
I had to bite my lip until I tasted blood. It was either that or slam my fist somewhere rewarding but probably inadvisable in the long run. “I tell you. I didn’t see it coming… because… because… Oh, skragg!”
Jarvik brought his pretty boy face right in front of me and sneered. The skangat probably practiced that look in front of the mirror.
“Well, that’s one for the history books,” he said. “You were telling the truth all along. You were blinded by love, Legionary. Turns out jack-heads like you are human too.”
“I loved her,” I said, testing out the words as if they were about to explode in my face. But they weren’t true. It was Bronze who had succumbed to that particular weakness. Bronze who had trusted an enemy. I gazed at my drink, looking into the reflections of the cut glass and began recalculating exit options.
Love.
It wouldn’t happen again.
“She shot you.” There was a new urgency to Cato Jarvik’s words. A tightness. I guessed he had known her personally. Known her well. But there was more to it. Jarvik was also readying for this confrontation in the bar to end.
After a long sip of his refilled glass, Jarvik placed his palms flat on the bar and calmed himself. “Is that the end of your story? You crawled away to let her die and never saw her alive again?”
“No,” I said. “Not exactly…”
4
I used the med-kit Sarah had discarded to patch up my leg best I could and staggered out into the tunnel. The medical nanites must still have been working because the wound didn’t open up when I moved. Every step, though, was agony.
> According to the plan, one of us had to survive. I should have hidden or made for the exit, but I couldn’t abandon the girl, even though she’d taken both weapons with her.
Instead, I was drawn toward the center of the maze where d’Jek would be, protected by a sea of hybrids. The closer I got, the more I felt a pull. We weren’t fully purged of the monster’s influence.
As I crept closer, the tunnels began to throb with the sound of chanting and spicy incense overlaying the ever-present, fishy sulfur.
“Hey!”
I looked up to see two armed cultists on patrol, advancing my way. One was a Gliesan, the other human. Both female.
“Sisters,” I called out. “Help me! I beg you.”
“What happened?” they said rushing over, their Hunndrin & Rax blaster rifles at the low ready.
“I’ve been shot.” I groaned and pointed back the way I’d come. “An intruder. He fled out the tunnel exit.”
The human crouched down to inspect my wound. The Gliesan shook her furled wings. I think she was unsure whether to help me or shoot me.
“He was here just two minutes ago,” I said. “Hurry, you might catch him.”
They looked at each other, confused. The moment of hesitation was all I needed. I grabbed at the Gliesan’s barrel and gave a sharp tug on the strap, winning control of the blaster. I shot the human, and when the Gliesan landed on my leg—making me scream despite her hollow-boned physique—I twisted the rifle around her and throttled her with her own strap.
Armed, I felt useful again. I advanced to the sound of chanting, using one rifle as a walking stick, and with the other ready to perform its intended purpose.
It was time to finish d’Jek.
* * *
In the end, I could see Sarah’s point. Being touched directly by d’Jek was allowing me to pass through the monster’s security, but there would be others with his touch surrounding their master. They wouldn’t be so easy.
Already, I’d had to kill two more cultists.
I hauled myself up through a gap in the wall and toppled into the same alcove off the main cave where d’Jek had clawed his way into my blood.
With my leg knitting together fast now, I hobbled onto the firing step that looked out over the cave and viewed the demented scene through the sights of my HC2.