His severed arm squirmed at her feet, black, twitching claws still clutching the blaster. She leaned down and pried the fingers from the gun, their grip still surprisingly strong. Her hand slipped and a claw sliced across her right palm.
"Fuck," she muttered.
She flung the quivering meat into the corner and squeezed the blaster, ignoring the pain as her own blood dripped onto the floor.
She opened a vox channel to the North Star crew and lifted the SIG to her face. "Evans to North Star crew. Do you read me?"
Noise crackled back on the lost connection. She remembered the scheduled downtime. The Orinmore’s internal network spent as much time down as it did up since the Zaqaran started patching the security holes they found after Swigger’s breach.
Clio considered her options. Others would have heard the alarm. It was just a matter of time before backup arrived. But she didn’t have time. She stopped the Quamat on its way to Swigger.
But why? What does he want with a sick officer? And where the hell is Lieutenant Wilfara and her guards?
She deactivated the barrier and cautiously stepped outside, her eyes scanning left. Not finding anything, she pressed her back against the wall again and slowly advanced on the junction. Her eyes flicked across the empty cell as she passed while her peripheral focus remained on the room at the end of the corridor. Either he retreated to the interrogation room, or he went to find another gun.
Clio did her best to ignore the whining sirens and flashing lights and strained her ears to see if she could pick up any sign of movement around the corner. As she reached the junction, a shadow in the empty cell caught her attention. When her eyes shifted, the shadow had vanished.
Fucking siren lights playing tricks on me.
As she turned back to the junction, another shadow drew her eyes.
She twisted as the wall shifted in a way that defied logic. Before her mind could catch up on what was happening, a blurred image of the Quamat lashed out.
Clio spun onto the floor, a sharp pain stabbing through her hip. She rolled onto her elbow and fired into the empty corridor, hoping a round might strike the camouflaged alien. Seeing she hadn’t hit anything, she scrambled onto her feet and limped for Swigger’s cell. Her leg gave way, but she forced herself upright again and pushed on.
While deactivating the barrier, she caught sight of her wound. Three gashes started at her hip and ran halfway down her thigh. Reaching the medical tent, she almost slipped on her own blood but clung to the frame.
She looked over her shoulder as dark liquid dripped onto the ground several feet behind. Clio looked up as a set of blurred claws slashed down from the ceiling. She ducked under an attack and the Quamat’s digits brushed her hair.
She brought the blaster up, but the outline of a tail whipped at her forearm. The blood-slick gun slid under the lip of the tent entrance.
Clio side-stepped another deadly swipe and her foot caught on a tent pole. She stumbled back, narrowly avoiding the whipping tail again. She pushed herself off another pole before she lost her balance entirely.
The Quamat remained almost-invisible, but her eyes adjusted to his movements.
The claws came again. She stepped into the attack, turned on her heel, and hooked the prisoner’s wrist under her arm, trapping it.
The stump flailed, squirting blood on her face. The wound splattered over the alien too, revealing its form.
The Quamat’s tail snapped up between his legs, and Clio caught it between her knees, the pain in her thigh excruciating. Despite its short stature, the lizard was wiry and strong and started to wriggle free. Clio’s vision swam as her own strength ebbed, the heavy bleeding taking its toll.
Before he could break away, Clio flung her forehead forward with every ounce of strength she had.
She felt a crunch and let the alien go as he stumbled, clutching his snout, his bloodied scales rendering his camouflage all but useless.
That’ll make the bastard think twice about coming at me again.
Or so she thought.
The Quamat coiled, and Clio braced as he sprang.
The force threw her to the ground, and she wrestled with the beast. She rolled on her back and screamed as sharp teeth tore into her shoulder. She frantically punched him in the side of the head as he snapped at her neck, his teeth clamping down on her right forearm instead. She repeatedly smashed him in the temple with her serial interface gate, but he refused to let go.
Claws flashed.
She threw out her left arm.
The black knives glanced off her SIG, bits of plastic scattering onto the floor. She used the device as a shield, blocking each strike while teeth sank deeper, drawing more blood. Clio screamed as she struggled to break free, but every ounce of energy had seeped from her body.
Feeling her weaken, the Quamat released his jaws and flashed her a red smile as his yellow reptilian eyes studied her neck.
Clio couldn’t so much as move a finger. What a shitty way to go.
His gaping mouth snapped at her throat. Liquid splashed into Clio’s eyes.
She expected the Quamat’s saliva…or her own blood. Confused, she found she could breathe. She blinked wildly.
Instead of tearing out her throat, the lizard lay motionless on top of her. Clio pushed goo and bits of flesh out of her eyes with one working arm.
The Quamat’s weight shifted on top of her and rolled into a squelching heap by her side.
She blinked blood out of her eyes again and found half of the Quamat’s face missing.
Clio weakly turned her head towards the tent and found Swigger with a smoking blaster in his hand.
"Saving your ass as usual, Evans," he said with a smile. Red poured from where the medical tubes had been attached. He stumbled against the wall and clutched a tent pole.
"Swigger…" Seeing the sharpshooter lent strength to Clio’s bones, and she willed herself onto her knees. "We need to get you hooked up to the machines again." She tried to stand but her legs wobbled like jelly under her and she slid back to the floor. She crawled, one leg useless and one arm barely working.
Swigger leveled the blaster at her head.
"What the hell are you doing?" she muttered.
Swigger's arm trembled. "Clio…the drugs aren’t working…It’s trying to control me!"
His arm snapped upwards and a shot rang out. The smashed light rained sparks down on Swigger.
Clio shimmied up against the wall, using it for support as she struggled onto wobbly legs. She considered flinging herself at Swigger when the weapon suddenly pointed at her head again.
"Swigger, stop!" She croaked.
"I…I can’t…" He laughed suddenly. "You stupid girl!"
"What—"
"You thought you could save your lover." Swigger giggled maniacally, and Clio realized the Aphnai had taken control. "What arrogance. Little remains of your dear Swigger. Just a little while longer and I’ll have his entire mind to myself."
"Leave him alone!" Her words came out weak and feeble.
"He truly loved you, you know, even if he could never bring himself to tell you." The parasite cackled again.
"Shut up and get out of his head!" she screamed, tears tugging at the corners of her eyes.
"Ah, you Terrans are peculiar creatures indeed. Even while staring death in the face, you imagine that issuing commands might make a difference." He chuckled. "It makes the thought of killing the rest on this ship all the more delightful. Now let’s start with you."
Another shot rang out.
Clio winced, but the blast struck the wall to her left.
"Get out of my head!" Swigger clawed at his face. His body jerked, and his arm twisted, bringing the blaster to his temple.
"No!" Clio reached out and almost collapsed. Even if she could reach him, she didn’t have enough strength to do anything.
"I can't keep going like this," he screeched. "I can’t let it live inside my head. Let it…control me."
The gun pointed ba
ck at Clio and Swigger giggled again. "Yes, I am in control, not you. Damn Terran."
"No!" The gun snapped back. "You won’t hurt her!"
"Drop the gun, Swigger," Clio said as she leaned against the wall, darkness threatening to take her. She poked a finger into a puncture wound on her arm and a surge of adrenaline pulled her back to semi-consciousness. "We'll get through this together…"
"I can feel it. It’s trying to stop me…" Swigger's arm trembled more violently, and he pressed the muzzle deeper into his temple. "I’m done hurting people! You. The Captain. Everyone. Clio, promise me you’ll tell them I was a good person…that the thing inside my head made me do those bad things…that it wasn’t me."
"Swigger—"
"Promise!"
"I promise, but please don’t—"
"The parasite was right about one thing, Clio…I do love you…"
"Swigger, put the blaster—"
Clio barely heard the shot.
Swigger crumpled to the floor.
"Swigger!" She couldn’t hear her own scream for the high-pitched tone ringing in her ears.
The brig spun around her head as she took several steps and crashed into a crouch next to Swigger. Her fingers felt the hole behind his temple. She tried to hold him together using her palm, all the while knowing it was pointless.
Tears blotted her vision and sobs tore from her throat as she leaned into him. She held his head against her shoulder, warmth soaking into her uniform. She wanted to speak, but her jaw refused to move. She tried to feel, but numbness crushed her heart.
The shrieking in her ears spread through her head as she retreated deeper into her mind. Emptiness swallowed her senses.
Familiar voices cut through the numbness—a voice she recognized—but the words were inaudible, like they called from deep under water.
She couldn’t tell how much time had passed…and she didn’t care.
Swigger’s weight shifted as someone pulled him away. Clio let them. Someone else lifted her from behind, their hands holding her under the arms. Clio didn’t know who they were or what they were doing…but she didn’t care about that either. She didn’t care about anything.
Someone hoisted her up and two people appeared at her sides, throwing her arms over their necks. For an instant, her wounds burned like wildfire, but numbness rose and subdued the flames, holding all true sensation at bay.
A voice spoke again. This time, the words rang loud and clear.
"What the hell happened?" Taza said on her left.
They carried her to the entrance. Lieutenant Wilfara and her guards were nowhere to be seen.
She swallowed. "The prisoner escaped. Came after Swigger. Fought him off. Swigger shot him then…killed himself so the parasite couldn’t make him hurt me."
"Shit," Grimshaw said on her right. "We’re taking you to sickbay. You lost a lot of blood, but Andrews will take care of you. Everything’s going to be okay."
She wanted to tell him that things would never be okay…not until she killed every Chit and Chimera agent in the galaxy. An old ember burned in the pit of her stomach, but the debilitating numbness doused even her fury.
"They got him…" It was all she could manage, her voice shaking. "The Chit bastards got him."
"Ensign Evans needs immediate medical assistance," Taza said into his SIG. "We can carry her. We’ll be there in five. She’s lost blood. Gone into shock."
"They got him…"
The burning ember suddenly pulsed stronger, swiping the numbness aside. It raged as strong as it had since Colony 115. The fury invited Clio, tempted her…but she dared not touch it, for she knew that doing so in her current condition would burn what little life remained in her bones asunder.
"They got him…" she repeated, unable to control her words.
"We’ll get the bastards," Taza said.
I’ll more than get them, she wanted to tell Taza, but her tongue refused to obey. I’ll kill every mother-fucking last one of them.
"They got him…" Now that Swigger was gone, Clio realized that she loved him too.
And she would never get to tell him.
8
The Table
Artax rubbed the back of his head. He swallowed the pain medication and washed it down with water. No matter how many painkillers he took, the headache wouldn’t budge. Not that he could complain. If he hadn’t been wearing his helmet when Marigoth broke free, his brains would have been plastered all over the torture chamber walls.
He had been as surprised as anyone else when he came through the other side with no more than a concussion. Officer Gorde and half a dozen other guards hadn’t been quite so fortunate.
"Are you paying attention, Artax?" General Ovious demanded, his words cutting through the head fog. "You assured us that you would be able to participate in this briefing."
Commander Igra sat to her father’s right, giving Artax her usual look of disdain.
Five others sat around the table; various members of Chimera’s command council.
The Monolith’s head of security, Captain Varklav, also regarded Artax with contempt. Artax couldn’t blame the Yalore. Since being brought on board, the Kragak had killed dozens of his men.
Artax rubbed his temple and squinted at the Shanti General. Few things irked him more than being dragged before a Table meeting. "You were talking about what to do with Marigoth."
"We’ve had word back from our agents on Kragaknar," Ovious said with some urgency. "They’ve checked with the Kragak leaders there and confirmed that Marigoth’s ship belonged to the Separatist fleet."
"I’m told that the powers of the Kragak homeworld have officially exiled their traitorous brethren," Igra added. "They’ve been named Felltore. Apparently, it’s as good as a death sentence for a Kragak. They want us to turn your pet over." She half-smiled and licked one of her fangs, reveling in the insult.
The Thandrall had spent decades annexed from Galactic Alliance space for being so-called traitors. "If we turn him over now, we will lose vital information."
She cocked a bushy eyebrow. "And, you’ve extracted information?"
"I’ve employed the help of a Rivarian scientist. Doctor Strabb’s research shows promise. We haven’t extracted information yet, but it’s a matter of—"
"You’ve had more than enough time to produce results."
"Regardless." Ovious raised his voice, dismissing their argument with a wave. "The prisoner poses a threat to security."
"A threat?" Captain Varklav said disgusted. "That thing’s a damn monster. We need to get rid of it as soon as possible."
Ovious cleared his throat, clearly annoyed at being interrupted. "Have you found a way to extract information, Artax?"
"Not yet, General," Artax said still rubbing his head. "It’s a work in progress."
"Getting those coordinates is your primary objective. The Kragak elders on Grimsog still haven’t aligned themselves with Kragaknar. They promise their support if we deal with the Felltore, but we need the location of the runaway fleet. The turmoil among the Kragak offers a rare opportunity to turn them to our side. These delays with your prisoner put that opportunity at risk. Every day that passes without information is another chance for the Separatist fleet to relocate."
"We shouldn’t be overly concerned with this runaway fleet," Admiral Fann said. The Rivarian maintained the same arrogant air as the General. "From what we hear, they make up a minority of the overall Kragak forces. Surely the Kragak on Kragaknar can handle it themselves. It would be better if we consolidate our numbers nearer to Shanti space. The civil war among your people could tip either way. The uprising on Claracia in particular has proven more trouble than expected, especially since the Tal’Ri haven’t shown their faces."
Several sniggered at the Admiral’s ironic remark. No one had ever seen a Tal’Ri’s face and lived to tell the tale.
"Let me worry about the war my people are fighting," General Ovious growled. "The Separatist fleet may be relatively small, but
they are led by the most revered High-Shaman. Many of the most respected warriors have already defected to his side. Left unaddressed, the Separatists might even gain supremacy. The Kragak may be beastly, but their political system is no less complex than that of any other species. Felltore or not, if other Kragak were to attack the High-Shaman, it would complicate things further. If we take care of the problem, however, we gain a powerful ally." He turned his attention back to Artax. "Hence the need to know their location."
"Marigoth has been more trouble than we anticipated," Artax said. "I need more time."
"Time and resources. Two things we cannot afford to squander," Captain Varklav said. "Yet, this Marigoth has gone through two containment units, and your augmented suspension rings couldn’t hold the vile thing either. The beast has killed more of my men than I care to number."
Since seeing the look in Marigoth’s eyes before he broke free of his restraints, Artax had decided the term beast was too crude a designation. "Thinking of Marigoth as a beast is to underestimate him. That was how he broke free. I won’t repeat that mistake again and neither should you."
The chief of security fell silent, but by the look he gave Artax, his head simmered with choice words.
Igra turned to her father. "The Kragak prisoner may hold important information as to the whereabouts of the Separatist fleet, but keeping him alive might be more trouble than it’s worth. Artax’s words strengthen the case for putting the monster down or turning him over to the Kragaknar. We’ve already sent over a hundred scout ships to assist in finding their renegade fleet."
Ovious stared off into nothing for a second before returning his attention to Artax. "Handing Marigoth over would strengthen negotiations. The scout ships are sure to find a clue sooner or later."
"There is no guarantee the scouts will succeed. And the sooner we come up with information, the better," Artax pressed, refusing to let Igra have her way without a fight. "As Commander Igra pointed out, it would be foolish to squander what time we do have. Marigoth must be kept here. We have no other solid leads on the Separatist forces. The scouts are a gamble at best and a poor one even then."
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