Hold the Line (Chimera Company Book 5)

by Tim C. Taylor

  “They’re my friends,” she told her new handler. “Chimera Company. I will not betray them.”

  “It is perfectly all right for you to have friends here, so long as you remember where your true loyalties lie.”

  There was no answer to that. Duty bound her as surely as her carapace confined her flesh.

  Reluctantly, she snapped off three years’ worth of memory orbs that hung around her neck like warts and handed them to Kwaiyad-18-Azure.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Thirty-Nine: Tavistock Fitzwilliam

  “The answer’s simple, Colonel Black. I’m here to hold the line. Are you?”

  The colonel glared across his desk. “Given enough decades, it’s conceivable that Sybutu and the other two could earn my forgiveness. Last time on JSHC, they disobeyed my direct order to board the Pride of Lienport. Instead, they jumped station aboard your pimped-out smuggler’s yacht. You sent them to instigate armed rebellions, spend time with notorious criminals, and recruit at the lonely fringes of Federation society for this Chimera Company my analysts keep briefing me about. I blame you for corrupting them.”

  Fitz cocked an eyebrow. “What, all of them?”

  Black waved a hand at him. “Not Zy Pel, obviously. He’s a SpecMish sleeper agent, best I can work out. And you’re Naval Intelligence’s, reinstated as a lieutenant colonel. I even heard they backdated your pay.”

  “They did. Gave me a generous performance bonus, too.”

  “Pah! In the company you keep, a legionary’s pay is chickenshit. I doubt you even notice the change in your credit balance. It’s the insult to those of us who really have held the line that makes my blood boil.”

  To the officer corps of the illustrious Legion, Fitz liked to present a permanent smirk complemented by an aura of insubordination. His face briefly settled into a state that was almost respectful. “Every legionary receives the same pay, from the most junior recruit to the first general. Always has, always will. Do you know, Colonel Black, there were days that detail was the only reason I retained a thread of respect for the Legion?”

  “Do you know, Fitzwilliam—or whatever name you skulk under this week—I don’t give a fetid fuck what you think? You’re an irredeemable smear of ass mange. If someone hadn’t pulled strings to exonerate you of any wrongdoing, I’d execute you myself, and then I’d have your corpse propped up so I could do it again.”

  “Skulk? Colonel, I protest. That’s a harsh word.”

  “Justice will catch up with you, Fitzwilliam. Until it does, explain why you’ve sullied the Legion’s maxim by quoting it to my face?”

  “It’s not difficult, Colonel. Ever since Marcus Furius Camillus, the first recorded legionary in history, sat back on his stubborn heels and said he wasn’t abandoning his post for nothing or nobody, holding the line is what the legions have done.” Fitz got to his feet. “Colonel, I stand before you on my stubborn-ass heels and declare hic manebimus frakking optime. The invaders are almost at the gates, and right here at JSHC is where we start to fight them back.”

  The colonel considered Fitz’s words. He seemed wearied by them. “Are you trying to recruit me into an insurrection—a coup?”

  Fitz stammered a few words in response, then shut up.

  The colonel had gone straight for the jugular and ripped apart Fitz’s pretty speech.

  Coup. That wasn’t a word that rested easily on Fitz’s lips. Its close cousins were hardly better: traitor, oath breaker, betrayer of all you once stood for.

  All those words had been used in the ugly conversations he’d had aboard Phantom with Sybutu, Zavage, and Bronze, trying to get comfortable with the idea that following Indiya’s plan was the right thing to do. They had never entirely succeeded.

  Fitz tried a different tack, attempting to convince himself as much as the colonel. “The Legion’s been infiltrated. First General Clarke was a foreign agent, and I’ve encountered many more like him. Admiral Nuysp was my friend. When I met him to discuss the threat in District Metz, I discovered his fresh corpse. His murderers were waiting for me, ready to tidy up their loose end.”

  “I’m well aware that the Legion is under threat. If the Legion fails, the Federation will, too. If you’re suggesting a petty tyrant should take absolute power, I won’t support you. Temporary tyrannies become permanent ones.”

  “Not always. Camillus was elected dictator more than once. He stepped down.”

  “History’s written by those who hold power in the present to suit their narrative. I wouldn’t trust details from events of 6,000 years ago. Since the idea of you becoming a political leader is laughable, there must be someone else you’re championing. Who?”

  “There is a leader,” Fitz admitted, “but seizing power for themselves is the very last thing they want. They’re anything but petty, and I believe them when they say how reluctant they are to return to the public spotlight.”

  “Even the most reluctant tyrant is still a tyrant. Temporary tyranny is still tyranny.”

  “I agree with every word. I beg you consider two things, Colonel. The Federation is already a corrupt tyranny. We both know it. The fact that this situation came about after a long and legal route doesn’t make it any less true. If you knew Admiral Nuysp well enough, he would have told you that the entire Federation must be strong because we’re under attack from an external threat.”

  The sneer left Black’s face, replaced by a granite hardness. “Nuysp did say something along those lines. That’s the only reason I could stomach speaking with you.”

  “Sir, I’ve seen the enemy with my own eyes. Only with the Legion strong and well supported can we hope to prevail.”

  “You give me empty words. I need more.”

  “You’ll have it. Soon. Be ready to make a choice, sir. Those who are prepared to stand for the Federation will either come together here at JSHC, or the Federation will die, along with every single soul within its borders. Every single one. You’ll know the time when it comes.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Forty: Claudio “Beans” Zanitch

  They were all still working hard on their mutant superpowers. From the outside, you’d be forgiven for thinking they’d learned the square root of nothing, but Beans knew better.

  For example, he’d learned to perfect his pre-confab preparation ritual. It involved sitting at a table in the Hall of Spurrell with a smoked ale in a goblet shaped like a shrunken skull. Cheese and salted cashews were mandatory, and extra points were given for a fold-out viewscreen to play his favorite game: Knight’s War.

  Did it make a nano’s difference to his ability to perform mind tricks? Probably not, but it was a pleasant way to fill the time.

  To date, Indigo Squad’s track record had been terrible. None of them doubted their mutant brains could do some genuinely weird shit, but whether that was something that could be turned into a useful tool was another matter entirely.

  They’d tried meditating on Burmina’s trap warning. Got nowhere.

  They’d concentrated on information passed their way by Chimera Company, but all Beans had gotten was an itching sensation. Probably more to do with a lice infestation from some of the grubby characters he was associating with.

  Unfortunately, some of those same associates had grown wise to his pre-performance routine.

  “Thought I’d catch you here,” said Pyruula, the Guildswoman who’d given him a weird craving for fish.

  He paused his knights mid-battle. “What’s up?”

  “Something’s been bugging me. I have an aptitude for directing our mind groups, but so do you. Why have you always hidden this?”

  Beans drank from his skull. “If you or I are what’s needed to be the targeting system for this little group of freaks, we’re not signing up for a single tour of duty. They’ll want us to continue. I can’t have that. Once this one job is done, I’m heading home to my family. I’ll retire from mutant adventuring. I have stories to tell, a daughter to shout at me.”

  “I�
�ve encountered many people. You don’t think like any of them.”

  “I’ve heard that a few times.” He laughed. “I guess I’ve learned to guard my thoughts.”

  “As have many of us.”

  “Perhaps.” He stared bitterly into his skull. “But not like me.”

  “Holding back isn’t good enough,” she told him. “They’re paying us the big credits, so put on your big boy pants, Mr. Beans. The boss makes her play tonight. If Indigo Squad’s going to make any difference, we need to come up with the mutant goods this morning.”

  He peered at the fishy femme fatale while he scratched his beard. “What do you propose?”

  She gave him a curious expression as she twirled one of her dangly fin things around a feminine finger. Then she told him.

  * * *

  Indigo Squad assembled. There had been a few line-up changes since the last group session. Squids, Zaydok, and “It’s a trap” Burmina had been pulled off by Kanha Wei on another assignment.

  Replacing them was a surprise new recruit, a sprightly old lady called Zi’Alfu, who claimed to know stuff without being able to rationalize how. Just one look in Zi’Alfu’s lilac eyes, and Beans could tell that this woman had lived more than most, even if they could loop back over a hundred lifetimes.

  He also picked up guarded looks between her and the hot Lungwoman. Pyruula was a bigshot in the Smugglers Guild, so what was Zi’Alfu that she could ruffle Pyruula’s pectoral fins?

  And talking of the fish woman, Pyruula had implemented the formation change she’d discussed with him before the show. She sat with an inner ring of the mutants who maybe had the greatest power—not that anyone exactly had great evidence. Beans sat behind her, pressing his back into hers in a second ring facing outwards. In the center of the inner ring was their new recruit, the mysterious Mrs. Zi’Alfu.

  No longer were they holding hands like soppy kids and hoping something might turn up. Pyruula led. Beans followed, marshaling the outer ring to Pyruula’s direction.

  Zi’Alfu contemplated details fed to them by Chimera Company. A conversation with Colonel Black, an ambivalent faceoff with the Militia vice marshal, that kind of thing. She spoke no words, but she’d fix one item in her mind until it shone clearly.

  Beans guided his outer ring to bolster and embellish fish boss’ thoughts, rendering them fertile so those in the inner circle could make impossible leaps of intuition and foresight.

  While they were fixing on Captain Fitz’s visit to Solera Sector, a violent crack rent the air, followed by a whiff of ozone. Beans’ mind had perceived Indigo Squad’s formation as two concentric rings of fire, slowly rotating against each other. Now they were joined by a pillar of flame that slowly rose from its center.

  He opened one eye and turned his head to look over Pyruula’s shoulder. Mrs. Zi’Alfu was rising in the flesh just as her pillar was rising in the mind space. Not floating above the floor, just getting off her wrinkly butt. Beans held his breath as she stood tall, then appeared to be lifted from above, an unseen force pulling her to the tips of her toes. And no further.

  Damn! Levitation would have been so freaking awesome.

  The mutants started shouting.

  “Department 9.”

  “Ren Kay.”

  “Operation Blue Chamber.”

  And then—and this really freaked his biscuit—Beans himself blurted out, “The old spin hub. Sector Four.”

  He was last to speak.

  It felt as if a circuit breaker had tripped. The surge of energy flowing through the room went out instantly. Half their number spooned to the floor.

  Not Zi’Alfu. “That was neat,” she said.

  It probably was, too, if any of it meant anything.

  “So neat,” Molinjik agreed.

  Beans regarded the lad. Sinofar said she’d discovered him in a stable. The boy was so astonished by the sights of the galaxy that Beans wondered whether he’d ever experienced life beyond his stables. For sure, he hadn’t learned to hide his thoughts yet. Molinjik had a dreamy look Beans knew well. It was the one he didn’t want teenage boys making when they thought of his daughter.

  “Hey, Molinjik. What did you see?”

  The boy frowned. “I thought everyone saw the same as me.” He blushed. “You know…that hot girl.”

  “Hot girl? Molinjik, please be more respectful when you talk about Mrs. Zi’Alfu.”

  “What? No…” He turned to Zi’Alfu but could only stare at the floor. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs.…Hey, Mr. Beans! You were jerking me.”

  Beans roared with laughter. “The wink should’ve clued you in, my friend. Seriously, Molinjik. I didn’t see any person outside of this room. Who did you see?”

  “She was young, Human, slightly older me, and pretty, with dimpled cheeks. It was her uniform that made her look so…nice.”

  “Girls in uniform, eh? My friend, you are not alone. Do you recall what kind of uniform?”

  “Military, I guess?”

  “Did she wear insignia? Guinshrike or hammer? Legion or Militia?”

  “Neither. Gray uniform, no insignia—and she had a pretty name.”

  “What was she doing?”

  “Was she carrying a weapon?” Pyruula asked.

  “Did you see anyone else?” Beans added.

  “No,” Molinjik replied. “Maybe she’s police. She was watching someone. Watching us, I think. I could tell other people were there, but I couldn’t see them.”

  “Monitoring unit of some kind.”

  “Such a pretty name.”

  “For God’s sake!” Beans shook his head. “Dream about her on your own time.”

  “Silasja,” Molinjik mused.

  Damn! The boy was in love. Beans tried to think back to his teenage years. Had he ever been such a sap?

  “That’s it!” Zi’Alfu marched between Pyruula and Beans. Her eyes literally glowed. “This slightly creepy boy’s object of affection is the key. Silasja. We must get to her. Now.”

  “No,” Pyruula replied. “We should wait for Chimera Company and the others.”

  “There is no time,” Zi’Alfu insisted. “They’re deployed to District Metz. We’re closer.”

  “It’s settled, then,” Beans declared with a grin. “Who knows their way around a blaster?”

  He winced at the dearth of replies. Half his fellow freaks were unconscious. Maybe if they ever came ‘round, some would own up to being retired Legion special ops, or alien ninja bots. The cool kind.

  With a start, he realized they weren’t alone.

  Urdizine, Green Fish, and Darant were supposed to be on the far side of the door that led through to the main arena. They were here in the Hall of Spurrell, instead, and so was Captain Fitz.

  Oh, crap. This can’t be good.

  The captain noticed the attention. He took off his shades and beamed.

  “What happened?” Pyruula asked him. “You’re supposed to be with—”

  “No. I’m in the right place, at the right time. My gut told me I should come here, and I see that I’m right.” He nodded at Beans. “The old spin hub. Sector Four.”

  Fitz drew the gun from his holster, and Beans nearly had a heart attack.

  The captain had a fancy thigh holster Beans had assumed held an oversized blaster pistol, probably from the H&R Elite range, customized with a pimped-out frame.

  It was nothing of the sort. The weapon was simple and blocky, almost like a cheap child’s toy.

  Beans was damned sure there was nothing cheap about it. He’d only ever seen one weapon like that. The one he’d left behind at home, because it was more of a retirement investment than a working weapon.

  “Eyes on the face,” Fitz said. “Eyes on the face.”

  Beans tore his gaze away from the firearm and rested it on the man’s grin.

  “I see you’re a connoisseur,” Fitz said. “I do declare you’re in luck, because this F-Cannon is about to see some action.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Fort
y-One: Indiya

  “Undignified,” the old woman spat. She leaned back to contemplate the many flights of metal lattice steps that ascended the central hub of Howell’s place. “Would it have killed Howell to fit a wixering elevator?”

  “It’ll be worth it, ma’am.”

  Indiya ignored Kanha Wei. The girl had been useful, but her obsequiousness irritated. The last thing she needed at this stage was to be surrounded by “yes” women.

  The problem with being around so long was that Indiya found it hard to distinguish between speaking wisdom born of millennia of experience and talking drivel out her ass. She needed someone who would tell her to her face when she was talking through the wrong orifice.

  “Just these steps to go,” Wei said, “and then you can reveal yourself and drop the pretense of being a crusty old wrinkly.”

  A chuckle. Better, Indiya thought.

  The rickety old woman appearance wasn’t entirely an act. Immortality would be so much better if it preserved your youth. She didn’t get older, but she didn’t get younger either. Indiya’s bones had been frozen at the point when they’d begun to ache.

  She shattered the thoughts of her youth. It hadn’t been a happy time. Long ago, she’d sealed those memories behind impenetrable barriers, buried them deep in her mind, and then deliberately forgotten the burial location. She remembered surface details. Try for anything deeper, and she only got migraine-inducing static.

  Another problem with immortality was that when you’d lived through so many moments, it was almost impossible to care about the current one.

  She made an effort to feel present in the here and now. Mostly this involved willing hormone releases to keep her sharp. Also, she breathed deeply of the air, thick with the scents of many and diverse people. To ground her, she concentrated on a few other sensory details: the faint breeze from the ventilation fans, vibration through the metal stairs, and Wei’s subtle perfume.