Terminal Alliance

by Jim C. Hines

  Mops took a deep breath. “Your boss received a shipment from someone named Azure.”

  Glory didn’t answer.

  “She has a comm device implanted somewhere. I’m picking up the signal, but it’s encrypted. Before you ask, I can’t trace it.”

  The Krakau waiter returned, looked from Glory to the humans and back, and in a tentative voice, asked, “Would the new arrival care for a drink? We have eleven varieties of nectar-wine, and a honey-based—”

  “Go away,” snarled Glory. No sooner had the words cleared her translator than the Krakau was scurrying back to the kitchen.

  “As for what you’ll get in return,” Mops continued, “I’ll tell you why your bioweapon failed on us, and why it’s going to fail when you try to use it against the EMC. I assume that’s why you sent the second group of fighters? To assess the effectiveness of your attack?”

  One of Glory’s multifaceted eyes twitched sideways. “Tell me why some humans were unaffected.”

  “Give me proof Wolf and Monroe are alive.”

  She tilted her head, listening to a voice Mops couldn’t hear. “Very well.”

  “Incoming signal. Yes, I’m trying to track it, but it’s being relayed through Glory’s implant. So, I can track it all of one meter to her chair on the other side of the table. The signal appears clean. Displaying now.”

  Her monocle darkened, then changed to an image of Wolf and Monroe lying unconscious in a small room or cell. Mops watched long enough to make sure both were breathing.

  “I’m also receiving a signal from their uniforms. Their breathing patterns match the visual. This appears to be a live feed. Downloading environmental readings. Current gravity and atmosphere don’t match this or any other Coacalos towers. Their suit logs suggest they were taken from Tower Five and passed through a low-gee, low-pressure environment before arriving at their destination. Those intermittent readings are a ninety-nine percent match to what we experienced when we first stepped off our shuttle.”

  They’d taken Wolf and Monroe to a ship in the docking bay. “Are they still on the station?”

  “I believe so. Suit logs don’t show any gravitational spikes consistent with an accelerating ship.”

  “No more questions,” said Glory. The image vanished. “Give us the information we want. Who else survived the attack on your ship, and how did you do it?”

  “That doesn’t matter. Kumar?”

  Kumar removed a small mem crystal from one of his front pockets and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger.

  “What is this?” demanded Glory.

  “A report I prepared for Command,” said Kumar. “Eleven recommendations for updated sanitation and quarantine procedures for EMC ships and stations, beginning with adjusting the spectrum and intensity of the air lock decontamination processes. Based on the filters we used to successfully clear the agent from the Pufferfish, I’m recommending a separate breathing mask to be installed in our uniforms. A mandatory quarantine period for anyone coming on board will be inconvenient, but it should prevent the spread of infection while we develop a test to detect your contaminant in humans and other—”

  “Enough.” Glory snatched at the mem crystal, but Kumar pulled it deftly out of reach.

  “I also drafted a schedule for rolling everything out,” said Kumar. “Prioritizing the most effective changes while taking cost and difficulty into consideration.”

  “I had to order him to stop,” Mops said dryly. “Otherwise, he’d still be at it, refining his schedule and plotting cost-benefit analyses.”

  Glory flexed her arms, momentarily extending her forearm barbs. “What is your point?”

  “To show that Heart of Glass and Stab the Stars wasted their shot.” Mops reached for another Tjikko nut. “If you’d taken out the Pufferfish, you could have kept the element of surprise. Who knows how many ships and stations you might have been able to infect. But now that we know about it? Your Krakau venom is all but useless, and the sooner you realize it, the better off you’ll be.”

  “Perhaps we had other uses in mind.” Glory looked pointedly toward the Tjikko nuts. “Perhaps the intent was to refine a weapon for individual targets.”

  It was like she’d pumped coolant fluid directly into Mops’ veins. Her breath caught, and her mind plunged into memories of the Pufferfish crew—of her friends and colleagues shambling about the ship, their consciousness shredded until nothing remained but instinctive, animalistic hunger.

  Like most humans, Mops didn’t remember her life before the Krakau cure. That hadn’t stopped fragments from embedding themselves in occasional nightmares. Flashes of hunger and cold. Of huddling in dank, dark ruins. Of the incessant groaning and ragged breathing of other humans. . . .

  “Sir?” Kumar reached toward her.

  Mops caught his hand, stopping it a centimeter from her shoulder. She licked her dry lips and looked closely at Glory. “She’s lying. You saw how quickly the infection spread through the ship. This is a weapon of mass murder, not targeted assassination.”

  “It could be both,” said Glory. “Perhaps we’ve successfully modified the venom to infect only one target. Perhaps it’s affecting you right now. Your mind is shutting down, and soon you’ll turn on the other human and begin eating him! Perhaps you’re right now jumping from your chair to devour his meat parts!”

  Mops deliberately took another Tjikko nut. “The sad thing is, you’re still a better liar than most Prodryans. Are you done, or did you want to continue?”

  Glory slumped. “I’m done.”

  “The Alliance knows we’re here,” said Mops. “I don’t know how many warships they’re sending, but if they’re not already in-system, they’ll be here soon. They’re going to tear this station apart.”

  “Let them,” said Glory. “We don’t fear the violence of your human shock troops.”

  “How long do you think a flightless Prodryan will last against them?” She checked the restaurant. Nobody appeared to be listening or paying undue attention. “Help me get my team back. Tell us how to cure my crew, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure you’re protected when the Alliance starts kicking down doors.”

  Glory twisted, hiding her wingless shoulder from view. “I have no access to anything involving Azure’s venom.”

  “Who is Azure?” asked Mops. “Our ship called it Krakau venom. Is Azure a Krakau?”

  Glory jerked back. “Azure? I’ve never heard that name before.”

  “You literally just said it,” said Kumar.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Kumar removed his monocle. “Do you want me to replay it for you?”

  Glory ignored him.

  “Why didn’t you get a replacement wing?” asked Mops.

  “Wings are difficult to rebuild. And expensive.” She hesitated. “I was not a skilled enough warrior to earn such a gift.”

  “How long have you been skulking about in the shadows for people like Stab the Stars?” Mops sat back. “Playing messenger, meeting with humans . . . it’s degrading.”

  “My choices are limited.”

  “Your problem is much worse. Your imagination is limited. Let us help you. I can get you off this station, drop you on any planet you want. The Krakau don’t have to know. Our medical facilities on the Pufferfish could synthesize a strong, lightweight wing for you.” She paused. “You’d have to help cure our medical crew, but once that happens, they could have you flying again within a week.”

  Glory’s left wing extended partway. Her head tilted back, like she was looking through the ceiling to the open air beyond. Then she shook herself and roughly shoved the wing back with one forelimb. “There is a counteragent, though it hasn’t been tested on humans. It’s stored at the lab where the weapon is manufactured.” She shuddered harder, then seemed to relax. Her antennae sagged. Her limbs lowered. When she spoke again,
her words were soft. “But it won’t help you. It’s too late for your people.”

  “I’ve got another signal to Glory’s implant! Just a brief pulse, but it originated on the station.”

  “I know they’re listening in,” said Mops. “We can help you, but you need to decide quickly, before—”

  “No, you can’t.” Falls From Glory looked almost serene. “Thank you for answering our questions, human.”

  Before Mops could ask what answers she meant, Doc said, “Infrared shows her body temp spiking around the thorax.”

  Threads of mist or smoke rose from the corners of her mouth. She stiffened in her seat.

  “Oh, Glory . . .” Mops kicked back her chair. “Doc, trigger a fire alarm now!”

  Green lights began flashing, and a calm voice instructed everyone to evacuate the restaurant.

  “Sir?” asked Kumar.

  “She’s a damned bomb.” She hauled Kumar to his feet, hoping they had time to make it to the door.

  They didn’t. Mops managed four steps before the world turned a searing white. She felt herself flung sideways. The only sound was a high-pitched ringing. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t see. Her mouth tasted like blood.

  Where was Kumar? Blurred shapes rushed past. Splotches of white and orange sparkled through her vision. Smoke burned her nose and throat.

  A shadow moved closer. Extended something toward her body. The end touched her neck, and electricity crackled through her nerves. Her muscles knotted.

  Her last thought before losing consciousness was, I hope Cook has insurance on this place.

  Admiral Pachelbel stilled her limbs to better hear the aide who’d splashed into her office. “They were found . . . locked in a closet?”

  “Four of them, yes. The other two were killed attempting to apprehend Lieutenant Adamopoulos and her companion.”

  Pachelbel twined two of her tentacles together, squeezing hard in an attempt to calm her temper. “Did they explain how they were overpowered by a pair of human sanitation workers?”

  “Yes, sir.” The aide’s skin visibly tightened. “The humans . . . they used one of the station’s autowash mechanisms.”

  Pachelbel checked her console. The Alliance ships would be decelerating within the hour, and should reach Coacalos Station within a day or so. “Have our agents learned anything more about why Adamopoulos went to Coacalos Station?”

  “They were observed entering a Prodryan residence, and later meeting with a Tjikko criminal.”

  “Drown it all, Mops.” She didn’t want to believe Adamopoulos had conspired against the Alliance and the EMC, but every intelligence report they received added to the evidence against her.

  “There’s more.”

  Pachelbel sank deeper into the brine. “Do tell.”

  “We’ve received word of an explosion on the station. Two humans whose descriptions match Lieutenant Adamopoulos and Technician Kumar were at the center of the explosion, along with an unidentified Prodryan. The two humans were dragged away by unknown persons. And . . . the CMC is threatening to go to the Judiciary if we don’t turn the investigation over to them.”

  Pachelbel flicked an arm, letting the splash convey her annoyance. “Colonial Military Command has no jurisdiction over the Pufferfish or her crew. Interstellar Military Command oversees all Earth Mercenary Corps vessels and personnel. Admiral Zauberflöte knows damn well this is my mess.”

  “Respectfully, sir. Admiral Zauberflöte believes, based on what Lieutenant Adamopoulos reported about Krakau venom, that this is now a colonial matter.”

  “Until she has proof, Zauberflöte can go piss on a deepwater spine serpent. Do you have anything further to report on Lieutenant Adamopoulos and her team? They haven’t started a war with a newly discovered race of sentient fungus in their free time, or anything like that?”

  The aide moved surreptitiously closer to the door. “No, sir.”

  “Notify me if that changes.” Pachelbel waited until she was alone to duck beneath the surface and circle her office in frustration. “Fucking humans.”

  MOPS FELT LIKE SHE’D been fired naked through an A-ring. Her body was numb, her joints stiff, as if they’d rusted solid.

  “I think she’s coming around.”

  It was hard to decipher individual words through the pounding in her skull, but she eventually identified the speaker as Wolf.

  “Are you back with us, sir?”

  And that was Monroe. She opened her mouth to respond. All that emerged was a dry croak. Her lips were swollen, her tongue dry. Her throat felt like she’d taken a welding torch to it.

  “Take it slow,” said Monroe. “You look like shit, but you’re alive. So’s Kumar. They brought you in about two hours ago.”

  She managed a raspy, “Where...?”

  “We’re not sure,” said Monroe. “We were unconscious when we were brought in, and nobody’s seen fit to offer us a tour yet.”

  Mops shivered and forced her eyes open. A series of metal loops jutted from the ceiling. Wrenching her head to the side, she saw metal walls with bare shelves and additional loops. Attachment points for tie-down straps? That would make this a storage room of some sort. “Doc?”

  “No monocles, no equipment harnesses,” snarled Wolf.

  Monroe gestured to his empty right sleeve. “No prosthetic limb either.”

  She touched the bare skin around her left eye, then looked down at herself, half-expecting to see missing limbs of her own. Her legs had been bandaged and splinted, and her left hand was encased in a medigel cast. Beneath holes in her uniform, bioglue held a series of puncture wounds together, mostly on her extremities. It could have been much worse.

  Her vision slowly adjusted to the dim blue-tinged light from the wall panels. “Falls From Glory gave us a brief feed of the two of you,” she said. “Doc pulled the environmental readings from your suits. He was pretty sure you were in the Coacalos docking bay.”

  Monroe nodded. “Cargo vessel, maybe?”

  “Maybe.” She looked them over. “What happened to the two of you?”

  “They were waiting in our quarters,” Wolf said, slamming a fist against the wall. “Six Prodryans, armed with electric stunners. They hit me in the face as I walked in, then ganged up on Monroe.”

  Wolf touched a dark, blistered splotch on her temple. The attackers had known enough to go for exposed skin, since EMC uniforms would disperse most of the shock. “I want a rematch with the cowards who jumped us, but once that’s done, I’m going back to find the one-winged snitch who put them on our trail.”

  “No need,” said Mops. “We were in the middle of talking to her when she exploded.”

  Wolf frowned. “I guess that’ll have to do.”

  “We’d barely regained consciousness when they brought you and Kumar in,” said Monroe. “I assume we’re being monitored, but nobody’s spoken with us.”

  Mops held out a hand, and Monroe helped her sit up. “Before she blew up, Falls From Glory told us there’s a cure.” Mops grimaced, trying to reconstruct that conversation. “The last thing she said was thank you for answering their questions.”

  “What did you tell them?” asked Wolf.

  “I don’t know. . . .” She didn’t recall telling Glory anything useful, but the Prodryans might have been digging for something else, something Mops and Kumar had inadvertently given away.

  “Why do you think they’ve kept us alive, sir?” asked Monroe.

  “Because someone has a use for us. Why else would they bother patching us up? Maybe they want to do further testing of their venom weapon. Or they might just want to wring all the intelligence they can from their four EMC prisoners.”

  Kumar coughed. His eyes snapped open, and he tried to sit up. He made it about halfway before falling back with a groan.

  “Take it easy,” Mops said. Kumar looke
d to be in slightly better shape than her. His face was burned, and hastily applied bioglue crusted his skin beneath holes in his uniform.

  “I think I’m ready to go back to cleaning toilets on the Pufferfish now,” Kumar said without opening his eyes.

  Mops chuckled, which reopened a cut in her lip. She scraped a fingernail over her teeth, cleaning away dried blood and a bit of Tjikko nut. “What was the last thing we said before Glory blew up?”

  Kumar’s forehead furrowed. “You told me she was a damned bomb.”

  “Before that.”

  He rolled onto his side. “You told her, ‘Your problem is worse. Your imagination is limited. Let us help you. I can get you off this station, drop you on any planet you want. The Krakau don’t have to know. Our medical facilities on the Pufferfish could synthesize a strong, lightweight wing for you. You’d have to help cure our medical crew, but they could have you flying again within a week.’”

  Mops just shook her head. Kumar’s memory was almost as reliable as Doc’s.

  “That’s when Glory told us there’s a counteragent in the lab where the weapon was manufactured.”

  “Her body language changed,” said Mops. Was it the offer to synthesize a new wing? The capabilities of Alliance medical technology were hardly secret. Maybe it was simply their willingness to help a Prodryan, and to hide her involvement from the Krakau. Could this have been a probe to test how humans would act against the Krakau? She chewed her lip. None of the possibilities felt right.

  “Maybe she was lying,” said Wolf. “Just messing with your heads.”

  “Prodryans are terrible liars.” Mops dragged herself to where she could rest her back against the wall. The only visible way in or out of the room was a large door at the far end. “I don’t suppose either of you came up with a brilliant escape plan while you were waiting for us to wake up?”

  “Wait for the Prodryans to come in, then unleash hell.” Wolf folded her arms and looked around, as if waiting for applause.

  “It’s a good starting point,” said Mops. “Let’s see if we can refine it a bit. . . .”