"Why Captain, after hearing the legends surrounding your name, I didn’t think you would be so naive. None of us get to choose where we are appointed in the flow of things. We may think we get to decide, but only the universe can exert any real control," General Ovious said as though explaining fundamentals to a petulant child. "You’re a man of principle, Captain Grimshaw. I respect that. However, one should not presume to understand the nuances of good and evil…especially when one’s principles are misaligned. If a man had to choose between saving one person or a hundred, would you consider him evil for killing the individual so that the hundred might live?"
"That’s different!"
"On the contrary, Captain, the numbers might differ, but the principle remains unchanged. Our galaxy is a stage. A few are chosen to perform while the rest watch. You and I are performers, Captain. Sometimes the actors fall, but the show merely carries on without them."
"That’s a very simple way of looking at things for someone throwing the word naive around."
"Your Confederation superiors gave you orders, and you followed them. You believed that following those orders was right. But, I call that moral laziness. How can you trust that those who make such orders do so for the greater good? Where has following such orders gotten you, Captain? The Galactic Council want you executed for treason. Your Aegi Order has been disbanded. We took out Straiya’s ship when it tried to sneak onto Shantalla." He smirked as though that point in particular brought him great joy. "And her side is losing the Shanti civil war. Even your own people consider you a terrorist. Now, you hide in a cloud of gas with a group of diseased exiles you hope will save you. It’s a sad state of affairs. The legendary Jason Grimshaw. The Kragak slayer. The savior of all Terrans. Cowering in a hole…waiting to die."
"A position we find ourselves in because of the lies you’ve fed the people."
"Lies? Where one sees a lie, another sees truth. You seek to destroy us, Captain. That certainly makes you a terrorist in my eyes."
"Take your word games elsewhere, Ovious. They won’t work on me."
"I know I can’t sway you, Captain, but consider it a warning. Don’t forget that you facilitated our victory because of your willingness to follow others…and so we come full circle." The corners of the General’s mouth slowly reached his ears. He spread his arms. "When you take your fate into your own hands, the universe still decides the outcome, but at least you die knowing you lived life on your own terms. If you don’t put a leash on yourself, somebody else will."
Something off-screen caught the General’s attention. “You must forgive me, Captain. I am required elsewhere. It was a pleasure speaking with you, though I am disappointed you would not at least consider my offer."
"Wait—" The channel cut before Grimshaw could speak another word.
He hammered the control panel with his fist, gritting his teeth in anger.
His head reeled as puzzle pieces once missing slowly slotted into place. Several mysteries suddenly made sense: How Chimera had always remained several steps ahead. How they had so easily maneuvered events. How they had turned the people of the galaxy against Grimshaw and his crew. As a high-ranking officer, Swigger had access to everything Chimera needed. But when exactly had he turned? And why?
Despite a clearer picture, so much still didn’t make sense.
He had to let what had transpired digest. He turned his attention to Swigger. He lay with his face against the control desk, his shallow breaths coming in fits. Grimshaw examined the wound and saw something move in Swigger’s ear. A cloud of rot and decay suddenly permeated the air and he had to stop himself from gagging.
On closer inspection, Grimshaw recoiled. Pulsing green flesh poked out of Swigger’s ear canal. An overgrown maggot struggled to wiggle free. Blood and puss oozed around the creature as it slopped onto the terminal before rolling onto the floor.
Rows of appendages exploded from its fat rolls.
It darted at Grimshaw with surprising speed.
He fired three shots, but it zigzagged so fast he couldn’t get a lock.
Before he knew what was happening, the slimy creature was halfway up his thigh. He swiped desperately with his blaster and knocked it to the floor.
It’s pointed legs clicked and skidded before tendrils erupted from its rear end, helping it regain balance.
It readied to spring for Grimshaw again, and he leveled his gun.
The door at the end of the room melted open, and the creature scurried for the exit.
Grimshaw’s blaster jolted as two more shots missed. He sprinted after the bug but got tangled with the two Zaqaran medical agents that appeared in the doorway.
"Get out of my damn way!"
They looked at him bewildered as they scrambled.
Grimshaw stormed into the corridor, looking left and right, unable to find any sign of the creature.
He ran to the right, scanning the floor, walls, and ceiling as he went.
He stumbled upon the security team.
They reached for their weapons in alarm.
"Captain, you put in a call," Jarak, the Zaqaran security agent said. "What’s going on?"
"Did any of you see an overgrown maggot with legs and tentacles?” Grimshaw said, ignoring them as he searched the walls.
"A what?" Jarak said, looking at him as though he’d gone insane.
He held his thumb and forefinger apart several inches. "A bug creature around this size, with lots of pointy legs."
They looked at him blankly.
A noise issued from behind the guards and Grimshaw pushed by. He searched along the floor and found a dislodged ventilation cover. He kneeled down and looked inside the opening, sniffing the air, smelling sulfur mixed with rot.
"I don’t know what the hell it was," he muttered, as much to himself as anyone else. "But it’s in the ventilation system."
Grimshaw and the guards arrived at the systems relay hub as Doctor Roshi and Andrews arrived. They were accompanied by a hulking Zaqaran in medical garb.
The door melted away as the first responders pushed Swigger into the corridor on a mobile stretcher. Bandages covered his wound. Tubes and sensors stretched across his body, feeding into the mobile cot’s electronics.
"How is he?" Andrews asked as she reached out to feel Swigger’s neck.
"He took a blast in the chest," the Zaqaran closest to her said. "Third degree burns. A collapsed lung, but nothing vital has been punctured. We’ve controlled the bleeding."
"Good job," Andrews said. "Get him to sick bay. I’ll be there shortly."
The Zaqarans nodded and rolled Swigger away.
"What happened here?" Roshi said, looking to Grimshaw for an explanation.
"Exactly what I’ve been wondering," Jarak said, eyeing Grimshaw’s holstered blaster with disapproval.
"I’m not quite sure I know what happened myself." He leaned against the wall and ran his hands over his face. "Turns out Swigger is a Chimera mole. I caught him communicating with them at the comms hub. When confronted, he pulled a gun on me. I put a hole in him first.”
“Are you hurt?" Andrews said, prodding Grimshaw.
He backed out of reach. "I’m fine, he didn’t get me."
"You look very pale," she pushed.
"I’m a bit shocked, but I’ll be fine."
"What’s that smell," Doctor Roshi said, his black nose twitching as he wafted the air.
Grimshaw sniffed the air about him and looked down at the line of slime on his gray pants. "A maggot crawled up my leg. Stinks like hell.”
"A what?" Roshi and Andrews arched their eyebrows.
He pointed at the shiny streak on his pant leg. "A maggot the size of my thumb squeezed out of Swigger’s ear after I shot him. It grew a set of legs and attacked me."
“Where did this maggot go?” Roshi said, checking the immediate area.
"It escaped when the first responders opened the door. I set chase, but it got into the ventilation system."
"Oslov, get
his pants,” Andrews ordered.
The Zaqaran reached for his waist, and Grimshaw batted him away.
“Really?” Grimshaw looked to Andrews.
She nodded as if to say he didn’t have a choice.
He grunted as he removed his pants and handed them to Oslov.
Grimshaw pointed to the relay hub. "It left gloop on the primary terminal inside and maybe the floor."
"We’ll process the scene," Jarak said, entering the comms room.
"Thank you, Captain," Oslov grumbled as he investigated the pants and stuffed them away.
"Swigger is stable," Roshi confirmed after checking his SIG. "We’ll need to run scans. Oslov and I will head to sickbay and get things ready."
Roshi and the Zaqaran left.
Andrews regarded Grimshaw with concern. "Would you like to talk about what happened?"
He shook his head. "I would like a damn coffee."
"Come on then," Andrews said, leading him by the elbow.
Grimshaw was all too happy to let her. "I’m waiting to wake up from this nightmare."
"It is a nightmare,” Andrews said with a sigh. “And it’s real.”
He should have known that this would happen. Things always went wrong when he got a chance to catch his breath. As Andrews led him toward the nearest mess station, he couldn’t help but ponder the words of General Ovious. Had he been a fool to follow the Confederation’s order for so long? The General had a point.
Had he listened to his gut more instead of those orders, he and his crew probably wouldn’t be in such a mess.
Then again, he could never accept mass-murder, no matter how fine a point the Chimera General tried to put on it.
He replayed the conversation with Ovious in his head. Perhaps the General had let his tongue slip, something Grimshaw hadn’t noticed at first. He had more questions than ever and no way to answer them.
4
Unbridled Tongue
Taza climbed out of Allora’s cockpit and jumped onto the Orinmore hangar bay. He stepped through a series of stretches, joints popping and knots loosening.
Being back felt good after the wild goose chase on Loth. He found the planet so unbearably hot, even with the heavy radiation TEK shield the Omnion had provided. The Lothians weren’t the friendliest bunch either. Everyone he met was as brash and fiery as the weather, snapping at so much as a stare.
He checked a utility belt compartment to make sure he had Clio’s gift. He fingered the rust-red crystal he’d found on the edge of a Lothian lava field. He had a Lothian jeweler fashion a necklace. Taza had never wanted kids, but he imagined Clio was more of a pain in his ass than a kid ever could be, and the rock reminded him of her fiery spirit. She would have given the Lothians a run for their money.
He smiled at the thought.
He tucked the necklace away and took a deep breath, suddenly being reminded of how unusually clean the Orinmore air smelt. He detected a subtle trace of exhaust fumes and lubricant. He took in the Orinmore’s pristine docking bays. Even the hangar felt too clean.
Five cleaner bots scooted out from a docking station to clean the area around Allora.
He looked to the North Star’s bay.
Human and Zaqaran crews went about their tasks. Before he’d left, the ship had been covered in scaffolding, but there wasn’t a pole or board in sight. The Zaqarans and the North Star’s crew worked fast.
Taza gave Allora a friendly slap as he retrieved his gear. The Omnion had gifted him with the vessel in exchange for his assistance. He named her after his trusty star-class jumper from decades past. The new Allora was bigger than the original and much more advanced, with more comfort to boot, but she had the same soul. She was perfect for traveling quickly between the Shroud’s various star systems. Just what he needed for the investigation.
An investigation that has turned up nothing so far, he thought as he worked one last creak out of his neck.
Despite several leads, he still hadn’t figured out how Quamats had entered the Shroud with the retrovirus. By the time the Omnion had caught the intruder on board the Orinmore, it was already too late. The Quamats were working for Chimera. That much was clear. But every effort to learn more saw Taza return to the Orinmore empty-handed.
Had he been a few decades younger, he would have made more progress. They didn’t call him The Ghost back in the day for nothing.
He found the new job refreshing, regardless. After years of stagnation, it was nice to feel useful again, and he’d barely had a lick of alcohol since Zora’s most recent disappearing act. She had left him a message, explaining that it was best if they remained separated going forward. His fingers touched the belt compartment where he kept the data crystal she’d left for him.
It hit hard at first, but he got over it, and for the first time in as long as Taza could remember, life was good.
And it’d be even better if I could figure out how Tarrig got inside the Shroud with the virus.
"Allora is enjoying being outside a great deal these days," Galli said as he approached from the maintenance walkway.
Taza almost tripped over a cleaning bot as he turned. "Good to see you, Galli."
Taza still couldn’t tell most Zaqarans apart. They all had the exact same blue tinge to their skin, but Galli’s vivid green crest stood out. His overalls were too clean for his profession. The Zaqaran mechanic was one of the few people Taza had warmed to on the Orinmore. Like most Zaqarans Taza had met, Galli was fairly reserved and content to quietly go about his duties. However, he and Taza enjoyed a bit of banter between trips.
"A productive journey?” Galli said.
“The trail turned cold again."
"Sounds like you need a drink and a fine meal. As soon as I heard the vendomat had Terran hamburgers on the menu, I had to try them."
"Keeping an open mind,” Taza said with a light-hearted smile. “I like it.”
"What did you think?"
"They were…tangy." Galli stuck out his tongue.
Taza chuckled. "I’m glad you’re widening your horizons. When we first came on board, you hadn’t even met a Terran."
"Ah, but I dream of exploring the galaxy one day…one day," he added, staring in the direction of the launch way. "In the meantime, I’ll take good care of this girl for you."
Galli regarded Allora with an obsessive affection. He and Taza shared a passion for ships, but the Zaqaran took things to a whole new level, though, it was his job.
"I’ll let you get back to work, my friend," Taza said tapping the Zaqaran on the shoulder.
"Make sure you try those tangy hamburgers!"
"I will."
Even an Omnion interpretation of human food was appealing. After weeks of rations and Lothian fare, any alternative seemed appetizing. Hell, he would have eaten the bland slop the Omnion consumed if it meant never having to so much as look at Lothian cuisine again. For a species able to change their shape and appearance, the Omnion lacked variety when it came to pretty much everything else. But at least their food didn’t include wriggling maggots, crawling insects, and other creeping things.
As loudly as Taza’s stomach growled, however, the dead-end on Loth bothered him.
He accessed his SIG’s mission log as he walked, swiping through the images he’d taken on the arid Plains of Sadur. He zoomed in on a rocky patch not far from the village where most of his recent efforts had been focused. Four words had been burned into the red rocks.
Chimera will free you.
He swore he would drag the truth out of Tarrig even if it meant cutting the bastard’s hands off.
Then he could eat.
Taza eyed the plasma rifles held by the two guards as he signed in at the brig’s security station. One sported a dull green crest, nowhere near as vibrant as Galli’s, while the other had a crest the same color as his skin. Taza didn’t recognize them. Zaqaran security were among the few people permitted to carry weapons on board. Omnion administration also made an exception in Taza’s case. Gi
ven the clout the shape-changers held in the Shroud’s systems, they had also granted him free travel as a diplomat as well as access to systems and archives even some Zaqaran agents had never seen. Not that any of that had helped. Despite access to vast resources, months of investigation had turned up very little.
The green-crested guard watched as his colleague scanned Taza’s serial interface gate.
The scanning guard eyed the blaster at Taza’s hip and grunted when his access came through. "Looks like you’ve got clearance to wear that TEK and carry that weapon. You better be careful."
"Sure thing, Captain." Taza gave a mock salute.
Both Zaqarans glowered at him.
He shrugged off their sour faces and stepped through the door.
Consisting of a processing area, six cells, and an interrogation room, the brig was small for a vessel as large as the Orinmore. However, the Omnion ran a tight shift, and cells were rarely occupied.
Inside, two armed Zaqarans stood to either side of a broad archway. A glimmering shield below the arch blocked access to the cells beyond. A third Zaqaran with a bright red crest examined a row of surveillance terminals.
Taza sighed as he approached Lieutenant Wilfara’s hub.
"We questioned the prisoner several minutes ago," she grumbled before he so much as opened his mouth.
She didn’t even look up from her terminal.
He decided it wasn’t worth arguing. "Anything useful?"
"We still can’t get anything out of him," she moaned as she finally looked him in the eyes. "But then our ways are more civilized than yours, aren’t they?"
He refused to take the bait. "I’m just back from Loth and would like to speak with the prisoner."
"Of course you would," she sighed audibly. "He’s still in the suspension ring. Did you find what you were looking for on that barren waste of a planet?"
He cleared his throat. "Well…not exactly. It’s classified."
She snorted. "You’ll need assistance in there?"
"I’ve got it, but thanks for the offer." He got better results when he went one-on-one with prisoners, though this one had proven troublesome.
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