Hold the Line (Chimera Company Book 5)

by Tim C. Taylor

  For thousands of years, she’d been defined by her natural hair color. It was ludicrous, of course, though she was grateful it wasn’t an iconic ass she was obliged to show off to the masses.

  “I see before me bootlickers, grifters, murderers. I could go on. However, I don’t need to, because you know dammed well what you are. You’ll have to go, all of you. Put on your coats, collect your things, and fuck off into obscurity. It’s time for Federation 2.0.”

  * * *

  Lily Hjon

  Adrenaline surged.

  In the parliament chamber below, Indiya had just threatened the entirety of the Federation’s establishment elite. You didn’t need to be a mutant freak to know there would be a response.

  She wished she could see the reaction on the senators’ faces, but she restricted herself to listening in via the speakers mounted in the ceiling. Although she had an option to hook into visual feeds, for now, that was a risk she couldn’t justify. Not with tunnel warfare where an attack could spring upon them from any angle at any time. She had to stay frosty and her signals hardened.

  Out of her Chimera Company team, Bronze was the only one who had experience fighting in defensive warrens. His advice to her had been to stay loose, stay alert, rest plenty, but above all, keep moving so your opponent couldn’t sneak up on you.

  Lily had ignored that last part, and it was leaving a tingling unease that would not let go.

  They weren’t in an underground tunnel, of course. They were in the network of ducts and crawlspaces above the parliament chamber. The dense layers of hollow spaces were designed to do far more than provide conduits for air and cables. It was constructed from absorbent materials that shielded against snooping. Filters in the upper levels protected against chemical, biological, and radiological attack. Foam cores in the mid-levels enhanced its capacity to absorb physical impacts. Supposedly, nothing less than a five-megaton yield would crack open the roof of the Federal Parliament Building.

  The lowest levels reminded her of the children’s game where you had to tilt the playing area to get the ball into the center of the maze. At any moment she half expected a giant ball bearing to roll her way. There would be no way to dodge. You couldn’t stand up in this maze. You could barely crawl.

  She tapped Nyluga Zi’Alfu on the shoulder. “Try again,” she whispered.

  “It doesn’t work that way,” the old woman replied.

  “The instinct works at a subconscious level,” said Burmina, her other Indigo Squad irregular. “If you try to second guess yourself, you’ll just get false positives.”

  Lily said nothing. Instead, she recalculated whether she still had time to follow the entirety of Bronze’s advice and break her static positions into mutually supporting patrols.

  No, it was too late.

  Following up on Burmina’s latest “It’s a trap!” prophecy, Indigo Squad had suggested two sites in the roof where they thought ambushes were likely. Or then again, maybe their gut feeling had only been trapped wind.

  Under the twin sergeants, she’d positioned two blocking teams, with herself commanding a mobile reserve. It was tantamount to begging to be outflanked, and in this confined space, her heart gave a claustrophobic flutter at the very idea of turning around.

  The signal box in her hand blinked a quiet amber warning. One of the shielded wires connecting her to her teams had just gone live. Her earpiece awoke.

  “This is Sybutu. Contact!”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Fifty: Lady Indiya

  “The office of president shall be directly elected by the people. The Federal Parliament is to be given teeth and renewed. None of the currently sitting members are to be reelected for at least 10 years. The Senate shall be reimagined as a body to scrutinize and, in extreme cases, delay the passage of legislation proposed by the other houses, which shall be senior to it. Many of the Senate’s current responsibilities shall be taken by the House of Systems.”

  “I wonder,” Senate Leader Eofonway mused to the seated worthies, “what bribes you have offered the Legion and Militia to support this armed coup. They must be sweet, indeed.”

  “On the contrary, I offer them only the prospect of duty and sacrifice in the war that is sweeping over us. If we prevail, following the transfer to a peacetime leadership, both Legion and Militia shall be disbanded, their personnel to be merged into a new body that shall establish its own proud traditions, building upon the best of both.”

  “So you’re setting yourself up to be a dictator for the duration of this supposed crisis?”

  “Yes. You say it like it’s a bad thing. Well, it is, but it’s better than the certain defeat and death that’s all your failed system can offer. Or would you prefer your citizens all perish if it means you can cling to the trappings of power a little longer?”

  “You may insult us as much as you like, Guest Indiya. With every word, you condemn yourself further.”

  “I don’t think so, bird brain.”

  The Gliesan’s head shook so hard with rage that his stupid hat fell off. “How dare you? This is an outrage, to commit a speech crime in here of all places. Apologize!”

  “Oh, get over yourself.”

  The Senate leader calmed, then he started trembling once more, having to hold onto the rail for support and showing no interest in wearing his crown of office. Improbable though it seemed to Indiya, he was attempting to portray himself as a victim in front of the people of the Federation.

  She kept quiet and let him get on with it. Eofonway was delusional if he seriously believed anyone could see the most privileged person in the Federation as a victim. Every second he continued his act in front of the cameras, the more Indiya would win people over.

  And public support would be vital if she were to survive the bombshell she was about to drop.

  * * *

  Osu Sybutu

  “Remember, only fire on my command.”

  “Copy.”

  “If we have to shoot legitimate security personnel, we’ve already lost. All we can achieve then is damage limitation and extraction.”

  “I understand.”

  Osu stared at the Pryxian, trying to decide whether his lack of faith in her was because she was a civilian criminal, or because he hadn’t worked with Sinofar long enough to know her limitations.

  “I’m strong and stealthy, Sergeant. The two are compatible.”

  “Go,” he told her.

  Off she went on all fours, heavy blaster slung beneath her chest, trying to find a way around this three-dimensional maze to approach whoever was coming from behind. She was as silent as a mouse wearing fur moccasins.

  Damn. Who knew? They might be unconventional, but his Chimera comrades continued to impress him.

  “I can feel their minds,” said Zavage, who’d removed his helmet to get better reception from the empathic lumps on his head. “They’re Human. Determined.”

  “So are we,” Osu reminded him, though what they also were was outnumbered. Without Sinofar, it was just him and Zavage.

  “Here they come,” Osu muttered, throwing a delayed fuse flash bomb a short distance ahead. “Activating shield.”

  Osu thought he caught a faint glimmer in the air as the force shield filled the space with its power. It was probably his imagination. That, or his visor shifting out of night vision mode for what was to come.

  The first Osu saw of them were flashes of incoming rounds being robbed of their killing power as they passed through the shield. From the pattern of the exotic matter sprays that persisted in his retina, these were bullets, not blaster bolts, nor railgun darts.

  It wasn’t a surprise. After thousands of years of weapons development, slug-throwing rifles still made the best sniper weapons, even the snub-nosed carbines he expected the kill team had selected for this cramped environment.

  The bullets tinkled as they dropped to the bottom of the crawlspace on the near side of the barrier. The shield erupted again in splashes as the enemy sent another fusill
ade at them.

  The flash bomb ignited, overwhelming the cramped space with cruel illumination. Two of the attackers jumped up in surprise and legionary helms clattered against the top of the duct.

  “Legionaries, hold your fire!” Osu barked at them.

  Another volley came his way. Osu used this space to update Lieutenant Hjon on the situation.

  “We’re coming to assist,” she told him in response.

  “Negative, Lieutenant. This is a jack-on-jack confrontation. Maybe I can talk them down. If they see you, they’ll be spooked.”

  “Very well. I’m sending Zan Fey and Zi’Alfu to watch your flanks, but they will stay out of sight.”

  After more volleys failed to penetrate the shield, their opponents ceased fire. They were dressed as legionaries: Parliamentary security forces, according to their insignia. They could be wearing fake gear of course, but Osu decided to go with the simplest explanation and assume they were who they claimed to be.

  He switched on his helmet lamps and let them see his open hands. Zavage did likewise. Their blasters were a second away on the floor. If not for the shield, those blasters might as well be in the next star system, because they’d be dead before they could reach them.

  “Surrender,” the legionary in front said. “You cannot escape.”

  “No one’s surrendering,” Osu replied. “We’re all jacks here.”

  There were five of them. At least five Osu could see.

  Motionless and silent, they hunched over on their knees with weapons aimed at Zavage and Osu. Behind the sound dampening and encrypted comms of their helms, they would no doubt be reporting in and discussing a response to the tactical situation.

  Suddenly, the rearmost jack backpedaled, retreating past the angle in the duct and out of sight. That wasn’t good.

  “You’re not one of us,” one of the jacks said. “You follow a traitor. We heard what she said.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Zavage said. “That’s Lady Indiya, the Immortal Empress, Azhanti herself.”

  “If you were once jacks,” the legionary replied, “you swore sacred oaths, to obey the orders of our superiors, not to follow traitors.”

  “I had the same training as you,” Osu said. “Our oath is first to the Federation, second to the Legion, and third to our legitimate orders. I’m not the betrayer here. You can hear them debating in the chamber below. Is there a single word the Lady has said that isn’t true? You know she speaks for the Federation more than those ass-vecked senators.”

  “What do you think she can do for us?” another of the jacks said.

  “What does she look like?” another said. “Is she like that image? You know the one.”

  “She’s…”

  Osu felt a silent warning from Zavage. It shook sense into him. Legionaries didn’t go into battle and debate politics with their opponents. The bastards were stalling…

  The jack who’d disappeared earlier now reappeared and threw an object at the shield. It stuck there, held in midair. The thing looked more like a prickly fruit than any kind of grenade Osu recognized. The sharp points on its surface first bit into the shield’s energy, and then extended like choking vines over its still invisible surface.

  The shield began to flicker.

  “Lieutenant,” Osu said over the wire, “our position is about to be overrun.”

  “Get out of there,” Lily replied. “Try to hook up with Zi’Alfu and Zan Fey.”

  On the far side of the flickering barrier, the legionary weapons were primed and ready to mow them down the moment the shield failed. This was Osu’s moment of truth.

  During the quiet periods in jump space, Vetch and some of the other Militia had confided in him, expressing the horror they’d felt when firing upon their fellow troopers on Eiylah-Bremah. It haunted all of them, each in their own way.

  He cradled his blaster and readied to fire on his fellow jacks. The only difference between him and his Militia comrades was that he wouldn’t be burdened by the memory. He’d be dead.

  “Dammit!” he yelled at the jacks. “I told you, we’re on the same side.”

  Osu set down his blaster again and took off his helmet.

  He tried removing the upper segments of his armor, but he couldn’t shrug it off with his back pressed up against the top of the crawlspace. The roof felt like it was closing in on him, crushing the already narrowed space. Waves of claustrophobia claimed him for a few seconds, then he lay on his back and pulled his armor off over his head, followed by his shirt.

  “If you’re trying to distract us with an impromptu strip show,” the lead jack sneered, “I gotta give you points for improvisation. Gotta burst your bubble, though, traitor. You ain’t got the curves.”

  “Doesn’t matter if I live or die,” Osu shouted as he righted himself. “In fact, it would be a kindness if you put me into permanent retirement. But she matters. I do it for her.”

  Shirtless, he shuffled forward on his knees, twisting awkwardly to present his left breast tattooed with the image of a young girl with shockingly purple hair. “You see her? Do you? She’s inked onto my chest and into my soul, and I’m willing to bet my life that some of you wear her ink, too. Who here hasn’t offered her a silent prayer before battle?”

  They gave him dubious looks, then they looked uncertainly at each other.

  Osu deactivated the shield and carried on, hands behind him, crawling toward a rifle aimed at his heart.

  He pressed his breast against the barrel.

  “If you shoot me, you shoot her. Who then is a traitor to the Federation?”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Fifty-One: Lady Indiya

  “The galaxy sees through you,” the senate leader accused. “You construct an imaginary crisis and seek sweeping powers to deal with it. A state of perpetual war, the classic justification of a tyrant. And who gets to decide when this so-called war is over? Given your longevity, Guest Indiya, your tyranny would be indefinite.”

  “I’ll tell you how you’ll know the war is over, Eofonway. It’ll be when the Andromedans stop killing us.”

  “Andromedans!” The stump-licking, chicken-brained little veck laughed in her face. “I do so enjoy you Humans with your invasion fantasies.”

  “It’s no fantasy,” Ansiyka stated, stepping forward into the center area. “As both president and first general, I tell you the Federation is being deliberately weakened in preparation for an invasion.”

  “You have no right to be on the floor of this chamber,” Eofonway snapped. He looked to Isserwulm, expecting the Speaker of the Parliament to expel the president, but the big Jotun did no such thing. Indiya’s bribes and persuasion had paid off. “Let the president speak at Lady Indiya’s podium.”

  “I’m surprised at you,” Eofonway told Isserwulm, “but not by the president. You’ll find the Senate is not so willing to bend its knee to your naked power grab. House business managers will arrange a vote of confidence in you both tonight. If, that is, we’ll be permitted by this power-crazed traitor to go about our lawful business. Or is your fleet here to show your true colors, Indiya? Do you intend to force your changes through with battleships? With blasters and grav boots stamped into the faces of Federation citizenry?”

  “Nope.” Indiya enjoyed this moment. When was the last time I had such fun? “For once in their lives, we’re actually going to ask the citizens of the Federation what they want. An innovation, as I can see. A vote, referendum, plebiscite, I don’t care what you call it, but we’ll bypass you leeches and put my proposals directly to the people. They will vote yes, or they will vote no.”

  * * *

  Hines “Bronze” Zy Pel

  “Speech time is almost over,” Darant whispered in the darkness. “About bloody time. I love cosplaying being a corpse inside a coffin. A place like this was perfect for peace and quiet, where I can finally finish my book.”

  Bronze smiled. “You’re a surprisingly complex individual, Yat Darant. However, Sybutu has reported that
we’re not alone in this warren. Maybe we should stay frosty just a little longer, eh?”

  With Darant a little behind him, Bronze couldn’t see the man’s reaction. Darant had probably been joking about settling down to read, but Bronze didn’t doubt he had his book on him, a paper one he’d picked up from somewhere. Lily had told him Darant could happily sit down in a secured battlefield amid smoking corpses and lose himself in a few pages of a good book.

  We each have our own ways of coping.

  Through the speakers mounted in the ceiling beneath them, Indiya’s words were pushing through her referendum idea. The fact that she’d been allowed to speak long enough to propose it meant they were probably going to win. He hadn’t believed they would.

  Arunsen and Green Fish were stationed at the next junction along, 20 meters away. Enthree was farther back where there was an opening into the level above.

  None of them had reported anything, but Bronze was beginning to tremble. What was wrong with him?

  The events on JSHC that had led to the Ibson Declaration had been a triumph, yet for some reason, deep forebodings swirled around him. It was as if something dark and sinister had taken place on the station, an event he had been involved in himself, but his mind couldn’t make the connections to figure out what that had been.

  Silence fell upon the auditorium below, and into that quiet swept a new sound. He wanted to say it was a distant voice, but Bronze knew it was Human nature to imagine patterns out of nothingness. To be thorough, he focused his augmented hearing and listened.