“Who the hell’s the grey guy in the hallway?” Taz demanded out as he sauntered in through the doorway.
“Where the hell have you been?” Captain Mitchell bellowed upon sighting him.
Kaiden stared down at her feet, not wanting to look Taz in the eye.
“I was at the titty bar down the street,” Taz confessed, embarrassed at being forced to admit it in front of the beautiful Kaiden. His pronouncement was followed by a long pause. “What?”
“So while you were out burying your ugly mug in some alien’s crotch, Juey and Knoles were being brutally murdered,” Mitchell declared, his voice flat with rage, fixing the scout with a cold stare.
“I… I… what?” Taz stammered, unwilling or unable to process what he’d just heard.
Mitchell continued to stare at him without so much as a word, deciding that the best – maybe the only – way for Taz to understand the consequences of his actions was to show him. Though all Kaiden saw was the two men staring silently at one another, Taz was being bombarded with telepathic images of Knoles’ nightmarish death.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t leave you on this planet to rot,” the captain demanded finally, breaking the silence. “You’re lucky Kaiden got out alive, or the death toll on account of your cock would have been even higher.”
Taz couldn’t speak. He wouldn’t have dared to, even if he could.
“Get out of my sight!” the captain commanded, sending the now guilt-ridden Taz ducking out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him.
“Actually Kaiden, how did you get out of there?” Mitchell asked in a more normal voice after Taz had left them.
“That would be the grey guy in the hallway,” Kaiden explained, still looking at her feet. “Though he’s more of a purple-”
“The what?”
“He pulled me out of there before the Banthalo noticed me,” she elaborated. “I don’t even want to think what would have happened if he hadn’t been there. I brought him back here with me. I was hoping we could return the favor.”
“What do you mean?”
“He wants to get off this shithole of a planet,” Kaiden explained. “I can’t say that I blame him.”
The captain gave a deep sigh. “Bring him in,” he instructed.
Kaiden went to the door, opening it just enough to invite Dasaan to join them. A moment later he was standing in the middle of the room, looking less dashing in proper light.
“This is Dasaan,” Kaiden introduced him after an awkward moment of silence. “He’s a Ganyatti.”
Captain Mitchell stared at the alien before him, sizing him up and subtly scanning his thoughts to see if he could pick up a hidden agenda, not wanting to risk the level of invasive probing he’d deployed against the Hrūll on the refinery.
“I suppose I owe you my gratitude,” he finally grunted.
“That is not necessary. I am simply pleased that your female was not harmed,” Dasaan replied smoothly.
“How do you know our language so well?” Mitchell asked.
“I spent time on the beast world of Ferakoon with a Gaian named Tycus Orm. He taught me Gaian, among other things,” Dasaan explained.
“Hmpfh. Kaiden tells me you’re looking for a way off this world?”
“I am. I would be, as you say, most grateful,” Dasaan admitted, looking Mitchell square in the eye.
Captain Mitchell pondered how to proceed for a long time. He didn’t much take to the idea of having a passenger aboard his ship, especially an alien one, but nor did he want to leave a debt unpaid. Eventually a solution presented itself.
“Can you cook?”
* * * * *
Marcus sat on the edge of his bed, so entranced in his new toy that he was unable to even think about falling asleep. Reid was already snoring like a wild boar, having been dosed with enough sedatives to make Doc Taylor green with envy. Marcus only hoped that the accelerated healers would allow his friend to be up and walking within a few days time. His new cybernetic leg was very impressive. It was formed from what looked like a lightweight weave of wiry steel muscles, quite different from the clunky heavy metal pieces he’d seen among the veterans on Alamo station. Taz sat brooding in the corner, wrought with guilt, while Doc Taylor had busied himself with a deck of cards, both of them oblivious to their surroundings.
Marcus fiddled with a series of holographic symbols suspended in midair in front of him. He had already connected with the H.I.V.E., and was browsing through a veritable sea of information.
“This thing is amazingly intuitive,” Marcus said to no-one in particular. “It even translates all the information to Terran… Gaian.”
He was dumbfounded by the amount of options this little wrist device had made available. He skimmed over a series of topics, finding history, geography, stellar data, linguistics, biology, and hundreds of subsets of each. Where to begin? he wondered.
Following a trail of documents, he finally found something of note, a historical tract relating to a war between the Hrūll and the Sheshen. The document appeared first in strange, alien symbols which sequentially transformed into the Terran alphabet. According to the document, border disputes between the Hrūll and the Sheshen had escalated into a state of war, a war in which the Hrūll had consistently lost ground. After years of combat, when the Sheshen armada was on the doorstep of the Hrūll homeworld, the Etherium had come to the rescue. A joint fleet, twice the size of the Sheshen forces, had engaged them in the upper atmosphere of the Hrūll homeworld, defeating the Sheshen soundly.
The battle had left the Sheshen armada depleted. The last remnants of their forces managed to escape, with the joint Etheran forces snapping at their heels. As the Etheran forces approached Nos Shana, they found the remaining Sheshen forces strategically bombarding their own homeworld with high explosives. After the last remaining ships in the Sheshen fleet had been disabled or destroyed, the Etherium finally discovered the reason for the Sheshens’ orbital bombardments.
Hidden on the planet’s surface were crumbling detention centers the Sheshen had used to house thousands of Hrūll captives, many of whom had been made to endure horrific experiments at the hands of Sheshen scientists. It became apparent that the Sheshen had long coveted the Hrūll’s psionic abilities, and had been willing to stop at nothing to acquire them. Though their experiments had all been in vain, the Sheshen people were condemned to suffer the consequences of their actions.
The Etherium ordered a blockade of the Sheshen homeworld, barring any ship from landing on or departing Nos Shana, enforced by a joint force of Etheran warships. As the years dragged by, the Sheshen people suffered in silence while the Hrūll slowly focused their political efforts on gaining control over the blockade. After nearly two decades of political pressure, the Etherium finally gave in and awarded the Hrūll control over Nos Shana. Since that time, the Hrūll patience for revenge has become legendary.
In one fell swoop, thousands of Hrūll ships blocked out the skies of Nos Shana, disrupting their interstellar communication and blanketing their world with orbital missiles. As the missiles delivered their deadly payload of poisonous gases, siphoned from the Sheshens’ own gas giant, more than three-quarters of the planet’s population was wiped out in a single night. When the Etherium finally received word of the event, they found that the Hrūll had already gone, leaving what was left of the Sheshen people to their fate.
After the initial chaos, the surviving Sheshen were left without a ruling government. As they struggled to survive, they erected shield walls to stave off the gas in strategic locations throughout their straggling cities, building walkways and platforms high above the toxic mist to allow safe travel between buildings.
The Sheshen adapted quickly. In less than a decade, the survivors had begun vying for power. Mobs rallied behind inspiring leaders, many of whom had been the leaders of powerful Sheshen criminal organizations. The power of these individuals grew exponentially and they seemed content with the status quo. Any attempt to r
e-establish a form of central government was met with threats, blackmail, or assassination. Eventually the only thing even resembling a form of rulership was the cartels.
Marcus felt so betrayed. Everything Shikari had told them was a lie. Their mission, even the things she had said about the Hrūll. The harrowing details of the Sheshen war crimes reminded him of the fate that awaited him at the hands of Division 6 were he ever to return to Terra. The image of Captain Virge Intari’s cold, dead eyes still sent shivers down his spine. Although he could relate to how the Hrūll must have felt, Marcus had a hard time imagining how that justified the fate of the Sheshen people. There must have been millions of innocent lives who had not deserved such a fate.
He turned off his new wrist device and laid down to rest. Though he wondered how reliable the information had been, it certainly explained the state of Sheijan. As he closed his eyes, thoughts of the Sheshen genocide weighed heavily on his mind.
Chapter 34
In the wake of the deaths of Emil Juey and Darryl Knoles, the crew was confined to the hotel. The only ones allowed to venture outside were Jago and Serena, who made twice-daily trips to purchase food from a nearby eatery.
“This shit tastes like cat piss,” Jago moaned several days later, stirring a metal container full of orange goop with an eating utensil resembling a cross between a spoon and a knife.
“Been drinking much cat piss lately?” Reid joked, earning a glare from Jago.
Two nights before the Tengri’s refit was due to be completed, the old squad had gathered in Captain Mitchell’s quarters for the evening meal, all but Taz, who’d chosen to dine alone in his room, unwilling to bear the judgmental looks of his fellow squad members.
“I’ve had it with this place,” Raven spat. “There are things crawling all over me in my sleep, and my room smells like farts.”
“You think your room smells bad?” Mitchell protested. “Try sleeping next to the Ape.”
“Can’t we go out, boss?” Jago pleaded.
“No!” Captain Mitchell put his foot down. “We can’t risk losing anyone else.”
“What if we all go together, boss?” Jago proposed.
“At least let us get away from Taz,” Taylor added.
“I can’t believe he just left them there, alone,” Reid sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.
“That’s not the worst idea,” Marcus admitted. “Let him feel what it’s like to be left on his own for a change. Besides, I think everyone could use a bit of cheering up.”
The captain could see they were all starting to gang up on him, and he was getting just as tired of the hotel as they were. Besides, Taylor was right, they could use a break from Taz. The mere sight of the diminutive scout sickened him.
“Alright, but everyone who wants to go will have to stay together,” the captain finally caved in. “That means we go to one place and one place only.”
“I know just the place!” Jago howled in excitement.
“Then if it’s all the same with you, I think I’ll stay in,” said Raven. “Someone competent has to keep an eye on the fort and make sure Taz doesn’t hang himself,” she added with a sneer.
* * * * *
Jago had brought them to a club called Zazunitse. Serena was the only one of the naturally-born Terrans who had wanted to go out with them, but, Dasaan, who had been visiting the hotel once a day to check in with his new crew, had decided to take the opportunity to get to know the team. He’d been fascinated to learn that the crew of the Tengri were not actually Gaians at all, and was happy to have the chance to spend time with his new crewmates in more comfortable surroundings than their cheap hotel.
The club was a circular structure rising above a wide platform that stretched up to a tall archway leading inside. An awning above the entrance held several holographic projectors, displaying animated scenes of half-naked Ganyatti females in various striking poses. Dasaan managed to smooth things over with a pair of mean-looking Banthalo bouncers after Jago’s mouth nearly got them into trouble. They didn’t bat an eyelid at the armored clones, despite the sidearms strapped to their hips. Inside, a path curved away to the left and right, rising towards the back on both sides, with a wide, cylindrical stage sticking up in the space in its center. The outside wall was lined with stylish booths draped with slick black coverings and glass tables, artfully curved to form various grooves and surfaces. The bar directly in front of the entrance circumvented the entire front portion of the stage, with shelf after shelf filled with exotic bottles of liquor lining the wall behind it.
They quickly made their way to the bar, eyes raised to what looked like a highly inappropriate mating display between a pair of female Ganyatti performers and a young portly Banthalo male with sickly, mud-colored skin.
This early in the evening there were only a handful of shady patrons of various races, all neatly dressed and seemingly unimpressed by the current performance.
Marcus caught himself blushing profusely, having never seen anything quite like it. He realized that he’d seen indications of interspecies relationships all around him ever since Semeh’yone, but ever since Roshana had tried to kiss Serena he’d done his best to ignore the implications. He wasn’t at all sure what to make of the idea, but he was frankly shocked at seeing it performed live onstage.
“That’s disgusting,” mouthed Serena, her mouth agape as she tried to tear her gaze away from the display.
“I don’t know,” Reid called over the throbbing music. “They seem to be enjoying themselves.”
Serena shrugged, feigning a smile.
While everyone else was busy ordering drinks, Jago was all but drooling as he stared at the female entertainers. Their bartender was an odd sort, its elongated head topped by a grayish-blue helmet of exposed bone, covered in dark flecks. A pair of expressionless, fish-like eyes were set on the sides of its head, behind a pert little mouth. Its body was distinctively humanoid, though its bizarre head and series of fins running down its naked back suggested that it was most likely amphibious.
“What is he?” Serena whispered in Dasaan’s ear, trying not to be too impolite.
“He’s a Namidian,” Dasaan explained. “They come from an aquatic world called Namala, close to the Axeon Void. I’ve heard it’s quite beautiful.”
“I’m still expecting to wake up from a dream at any moment,” Serena confessed. “This is all just so overwhelming.”
Dasaan smiled sincerely.
“What about your world?” Serena asked. “What’s it like?”
Sadness swept across Dasaan’s azure eyes as he considered her question.
“I have heard it’s one of the most magnificent worlds in the entire galaxy,” he eventually proclaimed, a hint of disdain creeping into his voice.
“You’ve never been there?”
“I am not welcome there,” he said, his tone utterly neutral.
Serena decided against pursuing her questioning, as she could clearly see that it was making Dasaan uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry,” she concluded. “I’ll go get us some drinks.”
Reid came over and handed Marcus a clear drink with a light blue tint in a square-shaped transparent container. Marcus was amazed at how quickly the sniper had taken to his new leg, moving without even the slightest limp.
“Come on Marcus, let’s go grab some seats,” Reid suggested, clapping him on the shoulder.
Marcus hesitated. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to sit with Reid, but that he’d hoped to find a seat nearer to Serena. He’d finally admitted to himself that he’d grown… fond… of her over the weeks they’d travelled together, and he was beginning to feel the stirring of familiar emotions, emotions he hadn’t felt since he’d been with Eve back in the Terra system. Although he missed Eve, he hadn’t thought about her for a while. He wondered whether or not he ought to feel guilty for having feelings for another woman. He knew he would never see Eve again, but somehow it felt wrong.
Reid led the way to a booth on the r
ight-hand side of the club with a good view of the stage. As they sat down, Marcus noticed Dasaan making his way along the sloping walkway on the opposite side of the stage, his hand firmly on Serena’s shoulder. Only a couple of days with the crew and he was already making his advance, the presumptuous bastard, Marcus thought, giving him the evil eye.
Up until now he’d had no qualms about the captain’s decision to take on an alien crewmember, and had even found the idea exciting. Now, however, he was beginning to question it.
At the front of the club where the bar curved back to meld into the front of the stage, Jago was reaching up towards a luscious Ganyatti female who’d just come on stage. She knelt down near the edge, winking suggestively at the huge clone, stroking his chin. Jago was drooling with anticipation, utterly mesmerized.
Marcus’ thoughts wandered to the two fallen members of their crew. Having spent so much of his time planetside on Ga’ouna, he’d had far less time to get to know the support staff than his squadmates had. What time he’d spent aboard the Tengri following their departure had mostly been spent with his old squad, or wallowing alone in his cabin.
“You know, I’m ashamed to say, I barely even knew them,” Marcus admitted, feeling slightly ashamed that Knoles’ and Juey’s deaths hadn’t affected him more.
“That’s not what’s bothering you,” Reid countered.
“What do you mean?”
“What bothers you is that you’re beginning to get used to it,” Reid added, sipping from his glass.
“Used to what?” asked Marcus, puzzled.
“Death,” Reid explained. “I think we all are… a bit.”
Marcus didn’t answer. He just stared at his friend.
“I think when you’ve seen as much of it as we have, you’re bound to start distancing yourself from it, which is perhaps the saddest part of all,” Reid continued. “It’s a bit like we’re losing the very thing that makes us human.”
Merillian: 2 (Locus Origin) Page 24