I gave her a cheesy little salute and ran back to Gonzales, who of course was overseeing the shooting range. There were several mimics in mostly human form, give or take a digit or two, all armed with blasters and firing at the targets we had set up.
Thankfully, the shooting range was pointed toward a treeless quarry, because they were terrible. And not even holding-a-gun-for-the-first-time terrible, but rather possessing-eyes-for-the-first-time terrible.
“Come on, Higgens,” Gonzales said, tossing me a weapon. “Time to throw your hat into the ring again.”
I dropped the gun at first, then juggled it a couple times before it finally fell into the grass and I had to pick it up carefully. It felt oddly heavy in my hands. It had really been forever since I last held one, and I couldn’t recall even firing it when I did have one.
“Step on up and show your game.”
“You know, being a weapons engineer doesn’t necessarily mean you are equipped to teach others how to handle a firefight.”
Gonzales laughed. “True, normally, but I am not normal. I like to play with the same guns I tend to and upgrade. So trust me, I won’t let you shoot your own head off. Not unless you piss me off, of course.”
“I’ll try my hardest then.”
Heart thumping, I stepped up to the empty station and lifted the gun. I could feel it whirring to life in my hand, the button to fire just below my fingers.
“Now, what you need to do is aim, breathe in, then exhale. At the end of your exhale, before you draw in air again, adjust your aim a little more, and then fire.”
“You make it sound so easy,” I sighed.
“It is, at least when you’re not pointing it at a living, breathing human being. This is just a target. You can’t hurt it. You can’t kill it. So, all you have to worry about is missing.”
I paused. “But if I do well at this, then I’ll have to eventually fire on a living, breathing being, right?”
“It’s easier if you don’t think about that yet. It’ll just complicate things when you’re too far from that level.”
“But I’ll have to think about it when they get here, no matter what level I’m at.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Geez, Higgens. I love ya, but you always overthink everything.”
“What can I say? It’s kept me alive so far.”
“True enough, but maybe it’s time to evolve.”
She stepped over to me and gently gripped my arm, bringing it up. “Here, grip it with both hands. There ya go.”
Then she moved behind me and I found myself in a position I never thought I would be. I had seen it a dozen times over in various sims and flicks, but usually it was the young, beautiful ingenue who was the one being taught while the big, strong man put his arms around her to teach her how to shoot an ancient game of pool, or old-fashioned cooking.
“Alright, breathe in. Aim.” Somehow, I managed to get over my shock enough to follow her directions, and I did as she said. “Breathe out. Adjust your aim. Now shoot.”
I squeezed the button at the apex of the handle, and it discharged a bolt of energy that shot out almost too fast for me to see. Within the blink of an eye, it was slamming into the edge of the target.
“Not bad. Just a foot or so downward and you would have had a bulls eye.”
“Yeah, well, something tells me that foot won’t be easy to get rid of.”
“Well, practice makes perfect.” She stepped out from behind me, and gave me a curious look. “Why are you bright red?”
“No reason,” I said quickly.
“Whatever. Just try again.”
I did, focusing as hard as I could. It was difficult to slow my heart and quiet my thoughts, but I felt like I managed. But when I fired again, I missed the target entirely.
“Keep trying,” Gonzales said, clapping me on the back. “The better you get at this, the better you get at aiming the firing rig on the fighters.”
“Really?”
“No, not really. But they have all sorts of aim assist, so that should help.”
“I hope so.”
“Don’t worry, it’s not like they’ll be the first ships you’ll fly.”
“Actually, it kinda will be.”
Her mouth flew open. “What?! I thought basic training for any sort of space-farer involves mandatory escape pod and single flying prep.”
“Yeah, it turns out that our company cut a few corners. Surprising, right?”
“Oh, man. Yeah. I’m glad you told me this now. Just more for us to practice, right?”
“Right.”
She caught my somewhat defeated tone and gave me an easygoing sort of nudge. She sure was being very touchy-feely lately. I wondered if that was because we were growing closer, or because of everything she had gone through on Earth. Either way, I wasn’t totally opposed to it.
“Now you keep shooting. I’ve got to handle these little ones.”
“You do that.”
I watched her go, my mind spinning in a dozen different directions. Each time we seemed to take a step forward, eight other things were tacked on to our to-do list. And as positive as we all were, I was acutely aware that time was running out.
It was the countdown to war, and I could only hope that we came out alright on the other side.
It turned out that Mimic wasn’t the only mimic that could learn at an exceptional speed. Perhaps it was just a perk of their species, being born to imitate others, but I certainly wasn’t complaining.
It seemed being around us also allowed the younger mimics to take on our forms more accurately, and after a couple days, everyone had the right number of eyes, limbs, and fingers. Surprisingly, none of them looked like us, however. I didn’t know if Mimic had taught them that it might be disrespectful to take on our faces without our permission, but it was certainly interesting all the different body types and features they took on.
Astaroth kept his hulking form, but his eyes eventually changed to being slightly almond-shaped, and his skin darkened to a shade similar to Gonzales’s. Another mimic, named Pyjik, took on a female body with short, black hair and skin so pale that she beat out even Ciangi for porcelain coloring. She was slender, and agile, spending most of her time learning hand-to-hand with Eske.
Then there was Meridyna. She also took on a feminine form, but one that was covered in layers of both fat and muscle. She looked like one of those women who could fill out any dress with no problem, but also crush your head between her thighs. Unlike the others, she still had a third eye that she never lost. Considering how well she imitated the rest of a person’s body, I guessed that she kept it on purpose and chose not to comment on it.
Then there was the last of the second-in-command group, Urdet. Their form was neither masculine, nor feminine, just somewhere in between. They kept their head bald, but their eyes were a ridiculously bright blue with thick lashes. Unlike the rest, they spent most of their time by Mimic’s side, learning, planning, and plotting. I got the feeling that they were almost like an advisor to her. Someone who she could bounce ideas off of and brainstorm with. Good. She needed someone like that.
Of course, there were even more mimics, literally thousands more, but it didn’t take a chart to figure out the group’s hierarchy. Mimic was their leader, and those four were her right-hand men. After them came about ten or so assistant-helpers who were okay at the whole human form thing, and then the general masses.
I could stay on the planet for months, just getting to know all of them, and I still probably wouldn’t have time. And that wasn’t taking into consideration those that were still the same size as when I left; some of the mini-mimics were taking longer to adapt to freedom than others of their species.
Somehow, within a single week, we had the four most advanced mimics ready to accompany us on our mission, plus two more below them. I almost couldn’t believe it as we readied ourselves to go. Everything was happening so fast, it felt like we were rushing straight toward disaster. But at the same ti
me, nothing was happening quickly enough.
“Be safe, all of you,” Bahn said, hugging Ciangi especially tightly. For the first time since I had ever known them, the two were separating. Initially, I had suggested that Ciangi also stay behind, but the blonde had surprised me by refusing. She was right in the fact that we did need everyone we could spare, but still, it had been unexpected.
“I will, I will. Now don’t make me regret this.” She pushed away from him and reached up on her tiptoes to pat his bun a couple of times. “You do your best with that shield thingie. I’ll make sure to program all of the ships we steal so they won’t lock up.”
“Right. As only you could do.”
“Exactly.”
“Alright, alright, you two, break it up,” Gonzales said, crossing between the two. “You can kiss and make up when we get back. Let’s go.”
Ciangi stepped away only for Astaroth to sweep up after her and seize both of them into a hug. “This is the tradition of your people, yes?”
“Yeah, sure,” Ciangi wheezed in his big-armed embrace. “But usually you have to ask first.”
“Of course! That makes sense.” He set them down. “I would like to express friendliness in the physical encircling of our arms. May I?”
She let out a long sigh and for a minute, I was absolutely sure that she would refuse. “Sure,” she said finally, after Bahn shrugged. “And it’s called a hug.”
“Fantastic! Let us hug!”
And then they were being picked up again, squeezed thoroughly, and set back down.
Astaroth went right on down the line, asking each of us if he could hug us. I was tempted to explain that he didn’t need to embrace us since he was going on the mission with us, but it seemed far too complicated, so I just rolled with it.
Little did I know that allowing him to hug us apparently made everyone else want one too, and we spent fifteen minutes alone having Pyjik, Meridyna, and the other two mimic underlings follow suit.
Urdet was the only one who abstained, seeming to like keeping their distance. I wasn’t insulted, of course, and honestly, I was beginning to feel a little overwhelmed by all the surprise contact.
But eventually, we finished the impromptu hug-fest and were shuffling onto our ship. The six mimics looked around with awe written across their faces. Although they had spent so much time in the alien’s spacecraft, it was obvious that it was nothing like ours.
We escorted them to the bridge, and I showed them how to buckle themselves in while Gonzales settled into the pilot’s seat, Ciangi into the weapons array, and then finally me on navigation. Not that I had any idea what to do, but the mimics took up all of the non-essential personnel seats, so I found myself stuck someplace actually important.
Mimic, of course, sat with her charges. It felt weird to be separated from her for one of these trips, but I had to accept that she had responsibilities other than being my friend. Responsibilities that involved taking care of an entire planet.
“Everyone ready?” Gonzales asked, kicking the engines into gear.
“Yes!” the mimics chorused as one, which was fairly creepy.
“Good. Preparing for liftoff.”
And with a simple flick of a button, we were flying off into the next grand adventure.
8
Walking the Walk
“So, what is this?” Pyjik asked, coming up behind me so quietly that I almost jumped out of my skin.
“Oh geez, it’s, uh, the fabricator. You punch foods into this and it puts out things to eat.”
“Foods?” she asked. “But what it’s making doesn’t look like anything edible.”
“Well, what’s food for us is not really like food for you.” I looked around for Mimic, hoping she could handle what was definitely the most curious of the mimics, but she was nowhere to be seen.
“What is it like then?”
“Like this,” I said, taking my plate off the fabricator and showing it to her.
“And that is what all food looks like?”
“No, not all. There’s, like, an unlimited amount of different combinations.”
“Really?” She gave me a skeptical look. “That doesn’t sound real.”
I shrugged. “Believe it or not. Either way, I’d like to eat now.”
“Oh, okay.”
She stepped aside, allowing me to cross to one of the tables of the cafeteria. I sat down, ready to lift part of my salad to my mouth, when she sat down beside me and stared without blinking.
“Hey,” I said, a bit unnerved. “Did Mimic ever tell you about closing your eyes every once in a while?”
“Yes, apologies!” She slowly batted her eyes, and it was one of the most uncomfortable looking displays I had ever witnessed. “She also mentioned something about breathing? Apparently, repeated filtering of oxygen-heavy gas mixes is important to your survival.”
“Yes, very much so. And that’s one of the reasons that you guys are so valuable to this. You all can survive space, while we can’t. Not without enviro-suits, that is.”
I lifted my fork to my mouth once again, but then she was asking another question.
“What’s an enviro-suit?”
I wanted to be angry, but how could I? She was basically a kid in a grown woman’s body, and learning about a whole other society. How could I blame her for being a little curious before a mission that was absolutely going to put her life on the line?
“It’s like the clothes we’re all wearing, but made of super strong, flexible material. We step into it, and then hook it up to a machine that makes sure it’s pressurized and filled with that oxygen-heavy gas mix so we can survive, and it seals us off from the very dangerous space.”
“But it’s just fabric. Even when it’s super strong, it can rip, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, what happens then?”
“Usually, we die.”
Her eyes went wide and she leaned back. “Really?”
“Really?”
“Then going out into space is crazy! Surely you never do it.”
“Actually, we venture into the great beyond more often than you might expect.”
“Huh, Mimic did say that you all were insane. I guess I never realized just how much so. She also said that your lives were very, very short and your bodies were incredibly fragile.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t say incredibly.” I went to finally take a bite and I almost made it to my mouth this time.
“Why wouldn’t you say incredibly?”
I sighed and was just about to shove the entire mass into my mouth, when the comm buzzed from the corner of the room.
“Hey, guys, we’re approaching the safe zone for their sensors. Everybody get ready for a spacewalk.”
With a last reluctant glance at my food, I slid it away and stood. “Come on, Pyjik, let’s go suit up.”
“Really? After everything you told me, you’re still willing to go out there?”
“Yup.”
“Wow,” she said, shaking her head. “Just wow.”
“You have a lot to learn about us humans,” I answered, laughing slightly. “We’re pretty reckless, or crazy, depending on how you frame it.”
“I’m leaning toward crazy, for certain. I don’t understand why Mimic is so fond of you. A single spike in the wrong place and you all could disappear forever. It’s terrifying.”
“You know, we do much better with our own mortality when someone isn’t telling us how easily we can die.”
“Right! Of course. That makes sense. Apologies.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Finally, we reached the lift we needed to take to the room where we would gear up, and the mimic chilled on her endless barrage of questions. The thought that Mimic had been dealing with this for more than a year made me respect her and her saintly patience that much more.
“Hey there,” Gonzales said, throwing me a suit as soon as I entered the space-walk bay. “What took you so long?”
“I
was trying to grab some food,” I answered, leaving out the part about how I had been verbally accosted by the eager mimic beside me.
“Really? Before a spacewalk?”
“I didn’t think we were there already. It’s only been about—”
“Thirty-six hours,” Mimic answered, as efficient as ever. She had rounded up the rest of her charges and had them dressed in the standard uniform underwear that had been packed to excess in one of the supply rooms. At first, I was surprised by the nudity, before realizing that they weren’t going to keep their human form while we were in the void.
“You guys all have something to change into when we get there?” I asked. I felt like this was an important part of the mission that we should have talked about before, but maybe they did when I wasn’t around. As much as I liked to think of myself as being important to Mimic, I wasn’t exactly key to most of this plan. Which felt decidedly strange, but I wasn’t letting it get to my ego.
Mostly, at least.
“We’ll be carrying them, actually,” Ciangi said. “Strapped to our backs along with our weapons. The mimics will get us in, and then we’ll find a safe place to land and disseminate the supplies.”
“You make it sound so simple,” I chuckled.
“Do I?” Ciangi asked. “Well, it certainly isn’t. We need to make sure that we land on the blind side of their sensors, and since we won’t have a tether to the main ship, a single misstep could send us hurtling off into space.”
“Of course. No pressure then.”
“None at all.”
Urdet tipped their head to the side. “You are saying something that does not make sense with your previous statement.”
“It’s called sarcasm,” Mimic said gently. “We talked about it a couple of times.”
“Ah, yes. I still don’t think I understand the purpose.”
“It’s like a joke,” she continued to explain just as calmly. “It doesn’t necessarily need a purpose, but is a means to communicate humor and personality.”
Mimic: The Space Shifter Chronicles Boxed Set (Books 1 - 9) Page 28