Hold the Line (Chimera Company Book 5)

by Tim C. Taylor

  It was a Human voice, whispering, Bravo. Tango. One. One. Kilo…

  Below him, the chamber erupted in uproar. Bronze lost the sound’s scent, but only for a moment.

  Bravo. Tango. One. One. Kilo. Kilo. Nine. Seven. Repeat. Bravo. Tango…

  The misgiving Bronze had felt since JSHC was building to mortal dread. What the hell was happening?

  Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. “Darant, tell Sergeant Arunsen we have company.”

  …Nine. Seven. Kill order target assignment…

  “Go!” he bellowed.

  Chimera Company.

  “Go? Go where?” Darant replied.

  Bronze made a shuffling U-turn in the tight space. The night vision amplified Darant’s hot ‘O’ of horror as his comrade registered Bronze’s blaster being brought to bear. Darant snapped the butt of his own blaster onto Bronze’s barrel. Bronze squeezed the trigger, but Darant’s deflection sent the shots harmlessly down the crawlspace, blinding him as the night vision overloaded with these bolts of star fire.

  On instinct, Bronze twisted at the hips and threw his weight behind a powerful punch to Darant’s throat. He felt soft tissue rip under the savage blow. His vision cleared to reveal Darant with one hand to his damaged throat, but the other gripping his blaster. Darant fired back.

  Bronze anticipated the attack, throwing himself forward onto his leading shoulder. He squeezed off four shots from the floor. They ripped through Darant’s center mass, leaving a steaming hole where his chest had been.

  His comrade’s blaster dropped from lifeless hands. Bronze stared at the wound glowing hot in his visor. He felt no remorse. He didn’t feel a thing.

  He retrieved Darant’s blaster and set off to kill the others.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Fifty-Two: Lady Indiya

  Before closing her pitch, Indiya looked out onto the councilors from the House of Systems. Their faces were mostly hostile, but at least they were listening. Most of the senators had pulled their hats over their ears, and the parliamentary representatives jeered openly.

  “To conclude, Legion and Militia shall jointly administer security during the referendum and verify its result. Following a yes vote, they will be led by a new, unified military command. Eventually, both military branches will be disbanded and merged into a replacement as soon as it’s practical without disrupting the war effort. Let’s call this the Federation Defense Force. I will lead the military command, and I may need to take on other offices and powers during the war, and to secure the peace. The latter will be a period of no more than five years following the end of the war. After that, I will be disbarred throughout the Federation from all elected and unelected public offices in perpetuity. All Legion and Militia personnel will swear an oath to remove me by force if I stay one day beyond that five-year period.”

  Eofonway shot a calculating look at Indiya. “If there is a vote and the people reject your proposals, what then?”

  “For all your sakes, pray they don’t. I’ll leave the Federation for good, journey far from the Perseus Arm, and never come back.” Indiya scratched her chin. She hadn’t considered this in any detail. “I think I’ll see if I can reconnect with Earth. Fought a war there once, but I don’t think I ever stepped foot on the world. My recollection of the period is hazy.”

  “I suggest you set off on your extended trek before I have you and your coconspirators executed for treason. If we truly are at war, we need strong and competent leadership, not a populist tyrant buoyed up by the capricious whims of the citizenry and backed by her Legion lapdog in the office of president.”

  “Capricious whims? Don’t you trust them?”

  “The people? Of course I don’t. They aren’t educated correctly. They hold misguided thoughts.” He licked his lips, as if tasting victory. “Which is why they won’t be hearing any of this session, except such parts as I choose to release.”

  “Kind of making my case for me here, Eofonway. If the political system of the Federation is so broken that the citizenry would vote to sweep it away, what makes you think you deserve to stay?”

  “How dare you? We’ve earned our place here as senators.”

  “Earned? Patronage, graft, nepotism, corruption, murder, blackmail, and above all the privilege of birth. These are the things that entitle you to your positions. Not a single one of you has earned your place.”

  The Gliesan didn’t appear to be stung by the truth of her words. Maybe he didn’t believe what she said. More likely he thought he’d already won.

  “It’s over,” he told her. “You’ve had your rant. Now face the consequences.”

  He raised his hand and brought it down.

  * * *

  Osu Sybutu

  “The signal to execute Indiya came in his words,” said Dodger, the sniper team lead. “The arm waving is just some dramatic bullshit dreamed up by that overstuffed clown’s ass.”

  Osu tracked his scope from the senate leader to Indiya and the Zhoogene officer next to her. President Ansiyka was also First General of the Legion Ansiyka. Her public show of support had swung it for Dodger and his team, and probably saved Indiya’s life. Osu’s, too, for that matter.

  They were observing through a hole cut out of the conduit’s floor and replaced with a one-way camo viewsheet. This was Dodger’s assigned execution port.

  “I still can’t believe you agreed to take out Lady Indiya.”

  Dodger responded with a warning growl. “Fuck you! I also wear her ink, with pride. The way they sold it to us, either the target was an imposter, or she’d gone rogue. Maybe she was showing the effects of aging far beyond what Humans are designed for. Helping her into permanent retirement would be regrettable, but made sense.”

  Osu nodded at Dodger’s sniper carbine. It was still aimed at Indiya. “Are we going to have to fight over that rifle?”

  “No. Guess we’re all traitors now. And by the way, fuck you again for turning us against our oaths.”

  “I already explained…”

  Zavage put a hand on his shoulder. Osu could hear his head lumps slapping as he shook his weird Kurlei head. Leave it, Sarge.

  “Contact!”

  “Drop them!”

  Deafening screams cut through the cramped tunnel. Charge packs whined, but no one was firing. Yet.

  Stupid damned place. Osu couldn’t turn quickly enough to see what was happening. Then someone switched on their lamps, and he was looking into a pair of blasters. Behind them was a green face with multicolored eyes.

  “Have you made some new friends?” Zan Fey asked.

  “She’s with me,” Osu announced.

  “So am I,” Sinofar said from behind.

  He felt a barrel pushed against the small of his back. Blaster pistol. “A smuggler girl and Pryxian warrior,” Dodger said. “I’m not getting a warm feeling about this.”

  Dodger removed the barrel. The blaster huffed as he safed it. “Just as well I don’t do regrets, Sybutu.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Zan Fey said. “We heard blaster fire from Arunsen’s team.”

  Osu groaned. “What happened?”

  “We hoped you could tell us,” said Zi’Alfu, who emerged from the shadows behind Zan Fey with a needler pistol. “Your comms are in your helmet. Why did you remove it?”

  “And for that matter,” Zan Fey said, raising a golden eyebrow at Osu, “where’s your shirt?”

  * * *

  Bronze

  Death was his business, and that business felt good. His limbs were H&R blasters with shipboard-variant plasma induction lances. His eyes, ears, and nose were superior replacements that fed their data into a neural augment that assembled a tactical map of his surroundings.

  If he’d been a man, Bronze would have felt pride in his abilities, but now that his true nature had been awakened from its dormant state, he was more machine than man.

  Bronze’s soul screamed in horror at the murder he’d just committed, but his soul had been shuttered away. Nothing t
hat put mission success at risk was permitted to him.

  Arunsen and Green Fish were next. He would come upon them in a state of panic and then shoot them dead as they asked him to report. Their deaths would be easy. Killing Sybutu would be riskier.

  Caution! He mustn’t forget the Muryani. He’d heard Enthree scuttling through the conduits. Should have killed her on Rho-Torkis.

  Bronze dropped the blasters. His deep screams escaped their prison and shook his body with revulsion.

  “What have I…?” he began, but he knew damned well what he’d done. What he needed to know was why, and who he had to kill in revenge.

  He caught a whiff of cancer. A scent of mold, stale biscuits, and metals. It was the Corruption. The Andromedans. They were here.

  But they weren’t responsible for sowing the confusion and murder in his mind. He could fight off their influence. He’d proven that. This was something else.

  His spirit was contested ground, fought over by two occupying powers he was unable to resist. It was an impasse, both controlling influences in temporary stalemate. A breathing space, no more.

  One force was the Corruption inside him. He’d beaten their influence before, but he knew he couldn’t defeat the other. He was compromised. Permanently. SpecMish never let you go, and the cancer eating away at the heart of the Special Missions Executive was Department 9.

  Of course. Department 9. Despite the resentment that burned within him, he acknowledged they had played their asset impressively.

  Bronze grabbed his blasters and twisted around in the tunnel. His mind tried to play out shooting the bastards who’d made him murder Darant and then turning the weapons on himself. Blocks prevented him. He knew if he went in guns blazing, he’d freeze, and Department 9 would kill him.

  He needed a more oblique approach to killing them, to sight his targets in his peripheral vision while busying his mind with another task. That sort of thing. Then it came to him. He knew just what to do.

  Bronze retraced his route to Darant’s corpse. The hole burned through his chest was cooling now. He switched on his lamps and looked into the sightless eyes.

  “I’ll kill them,” he promised. Then he reached into Darant’s jacket and pulled out his book.

  Bronze set to work, hacking at the pages with his knife.

  He worked fast, not knowing how much time was left to him, and all the while, he looked into Darant’s accusing eyes, not daring to focus on what his hands were doing.

  It wasn’t a problem. Experience had taught those stained hands what to do. They knew many ways to kill.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Fifty-Three: President Ansiyka

  “It was my homeworld of Zhooge that harbored the Exiles and gave them succor when they arrived in the Perseus Arm. Centuries later, my people joined the Federation, realizing our futures were better pooled together. We did this freely, and the Federation welcomed us with generosity. However, it welcomed us into a federal system that already existed, one that had been largely designed by Humans and Littoranes.”

  From Indiya’s podium, Ansiyka looked out into the tiers of politicians and saw that they were listening.

  “A yes vote for this referendum would be a mandate from the Perseids. Never let it be said again that the system is designed for the Orions and not the Perseids. For this reason, and many others, both Lady Indiya and her referendum have my full support.”

  * * *

  Bronze

  “I’m coming back,” he called softly. “Fresh intel.”

  He couldn’t see the Department 9 team, but with his enhanced senses, he could tell the vecks were close. But someone was closer. He twisted around in the metal pocket of the duct.

  Enthree was pushing herself through the tunnel like a bullet, so fast, her people could have evolved in these mazes. She held a pair of short swords in front of her.

  Killing her was part of his mission objective. He fired both blasters. The screech of alien pain brought his Humanity back.

  He’d burned away one of her forehands. The rest of her lived. How that was possible, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps he’d deliberately avoided the killing shot.

  Her agonized wail softened into a pitiful keening. Bronze dropped his weapons and vomited inside his helmet.

  With a mid-limbed hand, Enthree picked up her fallen sword and launched herself at him.

  “Should have done this at Bresca-Brevae,” she hissed and cut him with her swords as he grabbed the nearest blaster and fired.

  The Muryani backed away slowly, slithering on the slick floor.

  Numbed, he stared at his severed right foot lying in a pool of blood. A sword stuck out of his groin.

  A lot of that blood was his, Bronze realized, but not all. His bleeding was slowing, even the jet of blood from his severed leg. He couldn’t feel pain. Neither bleeding nor pain would help him meet his mission objectives.

  “No!” he yelled at the Department 9 mind worm. “I’m still me!”

  “You haven’t been Bronze for a long time,” Enthree said.

  “No. Bronze was always someone else’s asset. It’s Hines Zy Pel I lost. He died 46 years ago at Station 11. Now go. Don’t make me shoot you.”

  “Like you shot Yat Darant?”

  “You got me, Enthree. I won’t survive these wounds. You’ve revenged Darant with my death. Go. Clear off before…I don’t know how long I’ve got before…”

  Enthree had already moved out of sight.

  Bronze pulled the sword out of his body, releasing a fresh welling of blood. He didn’t feel a thing, and that scared him more than anything in his long life. Whatever he was, and whatever he’d done, one last task remained before he died.

  He tarried long enough to shoot the end of his leg stump with a blaster to cauterize the wound, then he crawled off to finish the job.

  * * *

  Lily Hjon

  “Go for Hjon.”

  “We’re hearing blaster fire,” Vetch told her over the shielded cable. “I’ve sent Enthree to check it out. Request permission to break radio silence.”

  “They’ll pinpoint our locations.”

  “Then we’ll have to shift our butts to someplace new. I think they already know where we are. We have to get mobile.”

  “Agreed.”

  After dispatching the others, the only person with Lily was Burmina. She was listening in to Lily’s side of the conversation and looked seriously scared. Good, that meant she was paying attention.

  “Get ready to move out,” Lily told her, then she broadcast the comm activation signal.

  “All call signs,” she said. “Sound off.”

  Three of her team didn’t reply.

  * * *

  Apinya Lantosh

  Lantosh leaned over and whispered into the ear of Indiya’s creature, using her hand to shield her lips from prying eyes. “I’m hearing reports of weapons fire in the roof.”

  “So am I,” Kanha Wei said.

  They were sitting in the sector for the House of Systems, occupying a permanent VIP area reserved for the president and her entourage. Lantosh had prepared for this day by adding portable shielding and ensuring the presidential entourage was staffed with sharpshooters who would be cool under fire.

  There was an advantage to the president of the Far Reach Federation and the first general of the Legion being one and the same person, as was usually the case. Lantosh had taken full advantage. Every staffer was an exceptional legionary, and anyone connected with SpecMish had been purged.

  She gestured for them to take a more active posture, and they subtly slid into position.

  Indiya was trickier. She was standing on the same podium as the president, making her final address. Having both of them so close together was a risk that made Lantosh wince.

  “Do we drag her off mid-spiel?” she wondered aloud.

  “Negative,” Wei replied. “She knows the risks, and this speech is crucial.”

  “Then I should warn them both. You stay put. I’m t
he first adjutant of the Legion. I’ve more business on that floor than you.”

  Lantosh half rose from her seat, but Wei’s hand on her shoulder pushed her down.

  “You’ve already warned the boss,” she said.

  Keep alert, Apinya, but stay where you are.

  Lantosh shuddered. The words had formed in her mind. It was the internal voice she’d lived with all her life, but they weren’t her words.

  They were Indiya’s.

  * * *

  Hines “Bronze” Zy Pel

  “Did you kill them?” the woman asked, surprised by Bronze’s return.

  He was as surprised as they were, in his case, by the bomb they were working on. It was a big one.

  He almost speculated what would happen if that bomb were caught prematurely in an explosion, but he veered away at the last moment from the thing he must not think about. Instead, he distracted himself by lifting off his helmet and grinning at her.

  They’d lit the area and stopped light escaping by hanging blackout strips. That meant he could see the consternation on her face, then the flicker of revulsion as she saw and smelled the fresh vomit on his face and in his helmet.

  “Can you understand me?” she asked from behind the C-clamp grip she had on her plasma pistol.

  “Yes,” he answered. “I killed two, wounded more, and drove the rest off. I grabbed this off one of the dead. It’s important. Why I came back.” He handed over Darant’s book. “Their plans are inside. Contacts, rendezvous locations, everything.”

  He put all his willpower into not thinking about the thing he’d done to that book, which meant, of course, he could think of nothing else.

  The Department 9 woman looked at the book dubiously. He wanted to shoot her. Kill them all. But he couldn’t. Not openly. Their hold over him was too strong for him to harm them openly, but too weak to prevent him wanting to do them harm. That’s why he did that thing. The thing he mustn’t think about.