Her Last Run

by Michael Penmore

  “Like what?” Isabel matched her tone.

  “I can handle it,” Dreyfus rushed to Pace’s side and reached out to take the communicator from him.

  Isabel grabbed the ex-Space Marine by the back of his shirt and pulled him to a stop. “Nope. I don’t trust you to handle a door handle, dredge fuzz.”

  The device warbled: “Juan! Did you get drunk and deaf? Respond this minute or I will demote you to a sandworm! I don’t care if half the ship thinks you’re their best buddy. If you don’t bring me the monkey, you’re dead!”

  “Let him try,” Nadie stood on Dreyfus’ side. “I trust him. He knows army talk.”

  Isabel stopped holding Dreyfus in place, but she had not changed her opinion of him. “Girl, this shnitzer just killed a man because he’s too pokey to stay in one place and too fat to keep my ship in one piece. Before you say another word in his favour, remember that you helped him. It’s on you too.”

  Jacob Pace stood up in one fluid movement. “Quarrelsome children. You are all responsible. It’s time for the responsible adult to take matters into my capable hands.” He took his palm off the communicator’s microphone slot and spoke into the thingamajig with a changed voice. “This is Santiago speaking.”

  This was not the slow, sonorous voice of Arbiter Pace. It was an upbeat song, the uncanny echo of the stiff Bolivian officer who lay on the floor at Jacob Pace’s feet. To anyone who couldn’t see the speaker, it was Juan Santiago responding.

  The voice on the other end of the line certainly thought so. It barked: “What the hell took you so long, Santiago? You took your sweet time. You’re drunk, ain’t you? Don’t even bother answering that. Don’t need that kind of hassle right now. Do you have the animal? Confirm.”

  “I secured it.” Pace was talking with someone who was obviously Santiago’s superior on the EEF ship. At the same time, the Arbiter crouched over the dead Army Captain and hovered a pea-sized sphere above his grotesquely rigid face. A green beam scanned the features several times and finished with a faint beep for confirmation.

  “Then what the hanky are you waiting for? Bring it to me at once!” the caller demanded.

  “I’ll be with you soon, sir. I have one or two loose ends to tie up with the smuggler.” Pace disregarded Rocarion’s pained scowl. He had balls to close the comm first. As he stood up, he popped the pea in his mouth. When he faced the room, everyone but Isabel shirked away. Leon climbed back on Rocarion’s shoulder and covered his eyes with one paw. Dreyfus and Nadie erupted with flabbergasted gasps.

  Isabel was astounded and confused. What she saw in front of her eyes wasn’t just scary. It was a game-changing terror. Hiding her emotions was her bread and butter, but even the hard-bitten gunrunner had trouble stopping her facial muscles from contracting with a series of emotions running through her.

  The Colonial leader’s image had changed entirely. Instead of the hawkish profile they knew, three people and the chamonkey were staring in the face of a Latino man. Army Captain Santiago’s lean cheeks and dark brown eyes stared back, full of life energy.

  “You all look like you’ve seen a ghost.” It might be said that Jacob Pace quipped, although he hadn’t shown a speck of amusement to confirm it.

  “This is some scary stuff,” Dreyfus shared with the room. His mouth stayed agape after he finished speaking.

  “Science Consortium tech,” Pace dismissed the matter with a curt statement in his usual dolorous voice. A flavour of trepidation permeated the quarters, but everyone bought it. The Consortium was capable of loads of things, so why not this? “I need you three to change.” The second phrase sounded exactly like Santiago. Pace weaved in and out of his new disguise, making the experience all the more surreal for the watchers. “Don’t stand about like pikes on a totem pole. We can only make this work if the good captain returns to his ship together with his faithful escort. Take off their uniforms, put them on and let’s be on our way. Earthers don’t have all day.”

  * 6 *

  That light blue EEF uniform with touches of grey stank of blindfolded servitude with a side of fries dabbed in stale ketchup. Isabel held her nose for good two minutes before she was barely able to breathe past the previous owner’s distasteful eating habits. When she could bear to look herself over in the mirror, she pouted. The sight was underwhelming. Grunts from the planet Earth had such considerable lack of style and panache. This thing could use a cape! But capes were probably reserved for high-ranking officers only; she was merely some kind of a sergeant. What did the thingy under three bars say about her newly acquired rank? Staff or stiff? She wasn’t much of an expert, but she thought it was probably the second one. All sergeants she ever knew were flat pokes.

  At least the uniform covered most of her body, and with self-adjusting as standard, it was easy to put on. She was lucky that she wasn’t stuck with playing the lowliest lowlife on the menu. Nadie and Dreyfus were condemned to the part of squaddies. Now she could safely lord over them as long as they roamed the corridors of the EEF ship.

  When she felt ready to leave her cabin and go meet the merry company, Leon suddenly jumped on top of her head, kneaded her scalp with all four of his monkey hands and chattered like a radio. Then his front paw dabbed at the mirror where her blue hairdo stuck out like the carving knife from a 12oz steak.

  “I know. I know. The hair.” Isabel focused. Life with the chamonkey was full of excitement. She had picked up a couple of amazing tricks. No invisibility or cloaking for her. She had given up on the prospect of ever achieving the uniqueness of her disappearing friend. But hair colour? Easy. She closed her eyes, took three deep breaths and opened them back.

  This wasn’t the greatest moment in her life, but she focused and, after a couple of tries, a spot of ordinary brown appeared in the sea of azure framing her head. The blotch kept growing until it took over her whole hair. She studied the effect, touched it with her hand. Everything was in its place and felt normal so why did she have a sense like a heavy rock was lying flat down on her head?

  Leon was happy, though. He jumped down with a nod and a whoop and gave her two thumbs up along with a happy squawk. Isabel Rocarion now looked almost exactly like the bland army types she was about to meet. Only she was ten thousand times more attractive. And she had those big mirror glasses to cover her eyes, and the gloves on her hands. She’d be the most stylish EEF sergeant ever.

  “And you’re staying too,” she lowered herself to one knee and brushed her phase-changing friend’s furry underside.

  “Ook-ook?” Leon liked those caresses and he probably didn’t want to go either way. But for the sake of appearances, he gave her the half-hearted look of a spurned toddler ready to bawl.

  “Now, now. Don’t you try your fancy tricks on me, mister. You know the drill. Your hairy face stays on the ship. It's for your own safety” She leant nearer and hugged him with both arms. Their faces nearly touched. “I’m seriously serious, Leonardo. They’re looking for you. They know what you can do. You don’t want to end up stuck in some EEFer’s cage like a lab mouse or a hamster, do you? Hey! What’s this?” Her hand fell on a small bald spot just under the monkey’s armpit. She rubbed the exposed white skin and smiled lightly. “You gotta take better care of yourself, boy. No more monkeying around sharp edges, you hear me?”

  “Ook! Ook-ook-ooook.” Leon stood up on his hind legs and wagged his finger at her. Then he grabbed her by the hand and walked her to the door.

  “Oh, so now I am evicted? You’re lucky you’re always so charming when you do this. All right. Be a good chamonkey. I’ll be back soon, it’s a promise.”

  She tried four times before she actually left. Every time she closed the door, she had to open it again and give Leon one more wave. She felt a little silly about it but that’s how things were between them. Leon stayed glued to the same spot and waved back every time. On the fourth attempt, he covered his eyes with a paw and gestured for her to go, and that was the signal. They had done enough goodbyeing. Mama Isabel cou
ld go do her thing, but she better remember to bring some bananas back from the store.

  With her spirits up, Isabel bounced to Cargo Bay A. They didn’t have much time left but the only person already in there was Nadie. The Colonial Corporal was red in the face and still grappling with her own EEF private’s tunic. “Look at me! I look stupid!” A sleeve hung down loosely past her hand. She tried to pull it in by force. “Move, you stupid thing!”

  “Don’t fight it, girl. Don’t fight it.” Isabel calmly put a reassuring glove on Nadie’s shoulder. Then she pulled up the zipper sticking out of the mismatched sleeve. The embedded self-adjusting system worked like a charm and shrank the fabric to a super skinny fit.

  Nadie moved her stiff arm up and down. “I don’t like it. Look at me. I’m a stinking EEFer,” she took an exaggerated whiff. “I smell of stale sweat and hypocrisy.”

  “It’s still better than fries and ketchup,” Isabel fired off and playfully punched her friend on the shoulder. “Chin up, soldier. You’re gonna be all right. This is not the worst you’ve been through. Let’s do our duty for the queen and country.”

  Nadie graced her with an evil look. “Easy for you to crack jokes. This... This smelly rag represents everything I hate!”

  “Pull yourself together, Corporal Chu. Rocarion, nice job on the hair. If you could only take the glasses off, you would just barely make it look like you’re a real sergeant master.”

  Pace rolled in as straight as a bowstring. He did look thoroughly like the persona of Captain Santiago he was assuming. Thankfully, he was still sounding himself or Isabel would have jumped out of the uniform in fright, thinking she was being haunted by a ghost. Her mind had done a remarkable job of pushing out the image of the Arbiter strutting around, looking like a dead man come back to life. It was unnatural. It was wrong. It was also freaking awesome, but she’d never admit that feeling to Pace while he was alive.

  Only one doubt lingered on her mind like a bad smell. Personality. Santiago had been a fountain of ebullience throwing in an occasional Spanish turn of phrase. Pace on the other hand... was Pace. Sad and severe, he could never live up to the energy of the original. He may have mastered the face and the voice, but he would not survive close scrutiny from the people who knew the Army Captain close.

  “I’m not taking them off,” she touched the rim of glasses and stood in Pace’s way with arms crossed. She enjoyed this act of defiance. It might seem like a childish little thing but she knew better. This was not the time to show the world the exact colour of her eyes.

  “He’s right. You stand out.” Rhys Dreyfus bothered to show up, having his own contrary opinion as always. This was the first time they had words since that talk strange about killing people, and he must have taken a cold shower and slapped some reason into his head, because, she had to admit, he struck quite an impressive image in the EEF uniform. Darn, but it fit him in all the right places. Why wouldn’t it? He had been a Space Marine, uniforms were only like his second skin. He looked more comfortable than Pace who in turn appeared a whole world better than Nadie who was constantly tugging at her collar. Dreyfus even held the standard EEF plasma rifle like he’d been born to a family of pirate hunters. What Isabel meant was hunters who shoot pirates. Not pirates who are hunters too.

  “OK, dredge fuzz. Let’s make a deal. I’ll take off my peekers after you kiss Pace on the lips. With a tongue.”

  Nadie laughed, but the laughter came out as strained as leafy green tea drained into a pot. Dreyfus looked at Isabel with all the love of a battle mastiff.

  “You’re endangering the mission.”

  “You’re endangering the IQ average.”

  Pace waded in. His grave words sat upon them like a stone slab over a burial. “May I remind you what’s at stake? You are both risking the lives of every resistance member on this ship. Captain Dreyfus, I understand your annoyance but it seems we’ll have to put up with Miss Rocarion’s flamboyance and make do as we go along. Isabel Rocarion, you’re now a sergeant master in the Earth Expeditionary Forces. Enlisted officers don’t let their mouths run ahead of them. To speak in terms you are familiar with, shut your indiscriminate pie hole and project military discipline like the Captain here.”

  “How about I project my boot on your ass, Paceman?”

  “I suppose I shouldn’t expect any better from a mere hired hand like yourself. Do us all a favour and, if you can’t keep your mouth firmly shut throughout, at least try not to insult anybody. If anyone has questions, keep them to yourselves. We’ve loitered here long enough. Time to move out.” Pace slapped the big button on the wall, and the exit ramp slid down to the landing pad. He walked nonchalantly down it without ever stopping to check if his ‘escort’ followed.

  “Arrogant prick. Who made him the general?” Isabel whispered in Nadie’s ear.

  “You missed your chance,” Chu pointed out and walked. She looked fidgety. Her hands kept reaching to her waist in search of blasters that weren’t there. She was starting to break a sweat.

  “Ladies first,” Dreyfus pushed Isabel not so gently and she ran down the ramp, nearly tumbling down on the deck below. She caught herself just in time and preened into the soldier’s gait. But her head kept bobbing left and right to take in the intimidating view.

  They were not alone. The Higher Power’s vast hangar was far from empty. On the slightly blue metal deck, under bright lamps mounted to the ceiling high above them, two large and square formations of EEF ground troopers sweltered. They were not your friendly Joes and Janes from the neat army town of white houses. These were battle-ready soldiers bulked up in the heavy white-and-yellow field armour. The patience in which they stood in straight rows lent them a semblance of automatons. The eerie silence proved discipline but it was giving off sharp tangs of anticipation. These soldiers’ future lay inside the robust planet landers parked before them. The transports were bound for Rockwall, to join the invasion which was already underway.

  Pace seemed unimpressed, as ever. Rigid and erect, he walked like a cold marble statue as he guided his small troupe of fake EEFers into the opening between the rectangles of real Earthers. Dreyfus held himself like the soldier he used to be, absolutely unwavering in following the Arbiter. But Isabel and Nadie didn’t fail to notice and be affected by the display of Earth’s might spreading before them.

  Isabel felt a tightness in her breast and felt like the ceiling was going to give out, crash and bury them at any moment. Nadie waddled rigidly like a poorly assembled toy robot. The gunrunner and the Corporal both sensed the heated glares sliding over their faces and slipping off the backs of their heads as they passed.

  Isabel suddenly felt the weight of the glasses on her nose double. She rubbed her fingers trapped in suede gloves, and the material seemed too tight of a sudden. Two harmless elements of fashion were making her stand out in this one-size-fits-all crowd. But she knew what would happen if she took them off and resisted the temptation to conform.

  A shock troop sergeant stepped out in front of Pace and blocked the passage. This is it, Isabel thought. A straight up challenge. This was the moment they were going to get outed and caught. Isabel’s darkly creative side drew the picture of a bleak military prison where they’d get their heads shaved and their routines drummed in until they forgot their names and called themselves by numbers. She was about to spend the rest of her days in some harsh hellhole, fighting for her life every single day, instead of soaking up the comforts of Procyon. Why oh why did she agree to John Amicon’s half-baked scheme? She should have refused him or told the Earthers what was going on when she had the chance. Too late. No turning back now.

  Oh, come on, pull yourself together. It’s just an Earther masquerading as a tin can, the industrious side of her thought. Isabel straightened up with confidence. She knew Nadie was as rigid with tension as a taut string. That left her as the only woman capable of saving them from the natural incapacity of men.

  The EEF sergeant spoke, “Captain Santiago. How long til
l we get the go? My men are getting restless. They heard other ships have moved their parties already.”

  “Soon, sarge.” Pace tried to move on. Isabel had heard of tough-as-nails sergeants who treated their superiors like cannon fodder. Now she saw one. In an apparent swipe at Pace’s – Captain Santiago’s – authority, the sarge positioned himself to prevent the officer from walking away.

  “How soon?”

  “Move out of the way, shnitzcan,” Nadie stepped forward and snapped at the EEFer.

  That was definitely not the way to go as the sarge rolled his armour-enhanced shoulders in preparation for a big bust up. “Watch that unwashed mouth of yours, private, or I’ll deck you and throw your foul swearing gob in the waste sorter.”

  Isabel grabbed the EEF rifle tighter in both hands, unsure what good it would do her if she tried to use it against the surrounding army. Next to her, Dreyfus looked as calm as the summer drizzle. Surprise, surprise, he kept his mouth sealed throughout the ordeal.

  Pace was on point, though. He did what he thought was necessary to disarm the arising sticky situation. When he opened his mouth to talk, what came out of it sounded like the good old Army Captain Juan Santiago Isabel knew and distrusted.

  “Amigos! Let’s not ruin this beautiful day of our victorious glory, yes? Fighting among ourselves? You should really be fighting bandidos e ilegales! Shake hands for peace and part ways like good friends. Sí? Yeeees?”

  He approached Nadie and showered her with the broadest grin ever seen in this galaxy. Isabel looked into his eyes and knew the joy wasn’t in them. Apart from that significant detail, he was the perfect Santiago. Outgoing. Talkative. But also, to her, spooky as hell.

  Nadie took one step closer to the sarge and reluctantly stuck out her hand. The sergeant slouched a little as though he was preparing to run, but locked that one insincere shake and everyone played at being happy again. In the case of Nadie, that manifested in her face - a twist of madness, something better left alone and never talked about. She broke contact with the sergeant, looked at her hand and wiped it over the tunic. She stopped mid-brush, looked at the limb again, realised she was rubbing her fingers against another symbol of the EEF oppression and pressed them firmly against her leg.