“He could be dead,” Vetch suggested hopefully. “Or eaten.”
“You are also a hopeless sneak.” Lily got to her feet and scowled up at him. “You arranged a rendezvous with our phony quarry. One you don’t want to keep. If you want my help, you need to explain what’s happening.”
“Well, yeah! I’ve been trying to. We also need to… make a decision about Shen.”
But Lily was already striding away, back to where the others were tending to the Saruswine. “Leave Julius to me,” she proclaimed into the air.
“I can’t,” Vetch muttered. “I got us stuck on this ice ball. Shen’s my responsibility.”
“Sir, we’re headed the wrong way,” Lily told Shen when they rejoined the main group.
The lieutenant bristled.
“Why would our quarry head northeast?” she said. “That heading only leads to an icy nowhere, followed by impenetrable polar nowhere. I only suggested it because Sergeant Arunsen told me to.”
I did what now?
Shen fixed Vetch with a glare. “I suppose you have a suggestion, Hjon?” His voice was icier than the terrain.
“Of course. They’re headed for Raemy-Ela. They have a wounded man who needs medical attention, and that’s the only place they’ll find it. No marine left behind. That’s what they used to say in the Legion back in the Orion Era, and the jacks still tell themselves that.”
“Is this true?” Shen asked Vetch.
“I…” Vetch clammed up. He wasn’t a party to whatever Lily was playing at. Hitting things with a hammer was his specialty, not scheming.
“Arunsen, you are busted to trooper.” Shen turned to Lily and gave her a sly grin. “And you, Hjon. I heard your desire to remain a humble trooper. I have therefore decided to award you a field promotion to sergeant.”
He enjoyed her irritated silence for a moment before continuing. “And if we don’t find them in Raemy-Ela, I’ll shoot you both myself… with pleasure.”
Vetch gave a bitter inward laugh. Between them, they’d messed Shen around so much that whatever happened from here, he would be planning on how best to execute them.
It was time to freeze off his moral qualms. He would have to do something about Shen and do it soon.
VOL ZAVAGE
From his position in the middle of the bike convoy, Zavage soaked in the calm resonating from his fellow legionaries. It was the rush he always felt when the tension around him released. It was better than the calm after sex, though he adored that too. Sometimes he felt frustrated that the humans and the Zhoogene could never fully understand the pleasures of an empath.
Even Rho-Torkis itself indulged the Kurlei legionary in his good mood. The clear skies brimmed with brandy-tinted light reflected off the endless white that stretched to the horizon as if they were traveling across an immense white sapphire.
The humans never stopped believing his empathic abilities – which in practice he’d greatly amplified by the power of diligent observation – were a front for the kind of telepathy that allowed deep access inside another person’s thoughts and memories. Such feats were almost possible in deep relationships with others of his own kind, not that he had any personal experience of such things. Lengthy friendship with other species, though, did often lead to a greatly strengthened empathic link.
Zavage had known Stryker and Urdizine the longest, and he felt their shift into optimism as a strong tingling in his kesah-kihisia, the frond-like empathic organs that swept back from his head. Or fish dreads, as De Ketele used to call them.
His mind instinctively scrambled away from memories of Fredrick De Ketele and the others who had died at Camp Faxian; it rested instead on his sergeant.
If he had known Sybutu for as long as Stryker and Urdizine, Zavage felt sure the sergeant would be the one filling his fronds with pleasure, because he was the one who had unburdened the most in the past hour.
Which was just as well, because Sybutu had been close to cracking.
His kesah-kihisia wilted, and the pleasure he’d felt was briefly replaced by the remembered smell of flesh burnt to smoldering embers: his comrades reduced to ash dancing in the wind.
The bombing of Camp Faxian… Despite the distance from which he’d witnessed the event, the tsunami of emotion as the lives of so many of his comrades were snuffed out at once had been a psychic blast that still resonated in his fronds.
He teetered on the edge of the trauma the events of Faxian had blasted into his memories, and scrambled back to fresh memories, made just an hour earlier.
They’d been shivering inside the circle of bikes as three EMP grenades went off.
The more paranoid amongst them had worried that the Militia had planted trackers in the bikes. They might also be in the equipment or clothing. Perhaps they’d been tracked since before they’d set off from Faxian.
None of them could tell, and with the bike systems and weapons hardened against electromagnetic pulses, who was to say that any hypothetical tracker could not be similarly hardened?
But there had been a visible and immediate result to the electromagnetic pulses. Shackles had unlocked in Sybutu’s mind, and he’d explained everything over short-range radio as they’d set off on a new heading, to the southeast and Raemy-Ela.
Sybutu had become a leader once more, and the future was beginning to look exciting.
Zavage checked the auto-follow self-diagnosis on his bike and satisfied himself that the separation distance remained optimal. Reassured, he settled into the pleasurable anticipation of reaching the capital. The prospect of mingling with such a rich diversity of civilians made his kesah-kihisia grow plump.
Even the Littorane town of Raemy-Ela held the prospect of exotic new empathic sensations. But this remote backwater, lost within an endless white desert, was also a serious test. Later in the mission they might have to pass undetected through a hostile capital seething with RILs, and maybe even rebel soldiers. First they must show they could pass without notice through Raemy-Ela.
Maybe the guys were a little too relaxed.
“Hey,” he said over the squad channel. “Keep it together, legionaries. I can feel your minds getting sloppy. Don’t. It won’t be easy in town.”
“Zavage’s right,” said Sybutu. “Except on one thing. We’re miners, not legionaries. Remember the cover story at all times.”
“Sorry, boss,” Zavage replied. “Listen up. We’re still a day out from Raemy-Ela. Playtime’s over. Time to go to work on our cover.” Dismay washed over him from the others. “Holy Azhanti! I felt that! None of you believe you can operate under cover except Bronze, and he doesn’t believe the rest of us are up to it. Hell, he’s the most scared of us all, on account of us being such incompetent jerks.”
“I prefer the term inexperienced jerks,” Bronze replied.
“Whatever.”
“Untrained jerks would do just as well.”
“So, train us, spy boy.”
“Zavage’s right again,” said Sybutu. “I don’t want us to sneak Urdizine in and sneak out again. I want us to try out our cover to the full. Bronze, is that realistic?”
“For sure. You can try anything you want. Doesn’t mean it won’t get us all killed, though. Tell you what. I’ll train you as best I can, and when we get within an hour of Raemy-Ela, I’ll tell you what I think you’re capable of.”
“Then you’d better start now,” said Sybutu. “Because ready or not, Urdizine needs attention, and that means we’re going in anyway.”
LILY HJON
“The trick, my friend, is to act like you belong here. As if you were born here, lived your entire life here, and fully intended to die here – though not necessarily in the near future. It’s everyone else who needs to doubt that they belong.”
“You’re spouting drent again, Lily.” Sward did that delightful Zhoogene thing where they huff indignantly but sound like a sneezing kitten. “Look around. This is not one of your human settlements.”
Downtown Raemy-Ela had been laid
out in the kind of grid pattern familiar to human town planners for at least five thousand years. But its seven heated roads marked this metropolis as distinctly Littorane.
The streets had a steep camber and wide side channels that pooled gently flowing streams of water against high curbs. Littoranes wallowed in these pools: luxuriating in the rare late afternoon sun, but not relaxing so much that they couldn’t get out the way when the occasional truck splashed through the water, seemingly careless of how many citizens were crushed beneath balloon wheels.
It was just as well the traffic was rare because the narrow streets were narrowed further for tall vehicles, which had to drive along the middle because of the numerous wooden archways that stretched overhead. The arches varied in height and width according to an alien architectural aesthetic that escaped the two Militia troopers who had been sent in to scout out the town.
Lily waved at a pair of Littoranes taking an interest in them from the shadows on the other side of the street. The ground was heated here, and the archways and banners reaching across the street between the upper levels of neighboring buildings went a long way to keeping the wind out and the heat and humidity in. Even so, she wore her thick coat, though unbuttoned and with the heating switched off. The temperature at street level was barely above freezing.
According to ancient history, population centers on the Littorane homeworld were in tropical lagoons and the littoral waters of warm, shallow seas. The locals here, though, were content to bask in the coolness of Raemy-Ela wearing nothing more than tunics of rubbery scales, and ornamental bands around the tips of their tails.
“Lovely day, isn’t it?” she called out to them.
“It’s not us they’re interested in,” said Sward.
The Zhoogene was looking down a side street at three humans who seemed to shrink from the attention behind their companion: a bulky Tallerman.
“You see, Sward? It’s not the big newts we need persuading that we belong here, it’s the other outsiders.” She gave the other party a glare and murmured, “Who do they think they are? Coming into our town–”
“Forget them,” Sward interrupted. “I hear a human voice. Two hundred yards ahead. Male. Clipped. Sounds military. It’s our target!”
Lily couldn’t see anyone, but Sward’s hearing was sharper than any human’s.
“Keep walking like we belong here,” she told him.
A man exited a building a couple of hundred yards up the street and headed left up a side alley. An angry snort came from the doorway before it was slammed shut.
“Never underestimate the ability of the Legion to annoy sentient beings of all descriptions,” Lily observed as they neared the turning.
Sward halted. “Shouldn’t we report back?”
Lily sighed.
Dear Vetch. The messes you get me into...
She grinned.
According to the official version of events believed by Sward and the lieutenant, the troopers were here to bring back their quarry, dead or alive. Preferably the former. But that wasn’t what Vetch and Major Yazzie had in mind.
Not at all.
“We can’t lose the lead,” said Lily, picking up pace in pursuit. “We follow.”
She turned into the cross street and almost bumped into her quarry who was consulting a handheld device with a large screen.
Crewcut dark hair and dark skin. Modest height but broad across the shoulders. Without his thick coat and hat, his physique was clearly visible and matched Sergeant Osu Sybutu’s.
Neat.
She’d enjoyed him so far and hadn’t any intention of stopping now.
“Well, look who I’ve found,” she announced.
Sybutu turned to regard her.
The tinted glacier goggles incorporated a nose guard that obscured his face, but the way he looked at her like she was a piece of dirt felt mighty familiar.
Beneath his open camo greatcoat, his quilted tan jacket sported a pair of large breast pockets outlined in red trim. Over the right one was a rectangular patch displaying a white lozenge stretched across a red background. The emblem of Cora’s World.
“Who are you?” asked the man. He sounded nothing like Sybutu. This was a genuine rebel soldier.
A circular badge over the left breast depicted a red flame escaping a razor wire ring: Cora’s Hope Division.
“We were wondering the same question,” said Sward, coming from behind and resting his hands possessively on Lily’s shoulders. “We were here first,” he insisted drunkenly. “Hello? You’re a soldier? Tell me you’re not here to steal our mineral rights.”
“I’ll tell you who I am,” said the rebel. “I’m the person demanding you explain who you are.”
“Go fuck yourself,” said Sward, squaring up for a fight, though with a wobbly swagger that implied copious quantities of alcohol were sloshing through his interior hydraulics.
“Hey!” Lily slapped Sward’s face. “Just because he’s human, doesn’t mean I’m going to jump him. Stop getting so jealous. I was just saying hi to the nice soldier man.”
“Really?” Sward’s blinking and staggering was a fine portrayal of inebriated confusion. Lily was impressed.
“Really,” she assured him, checking out the corner of her eye that the rebel was acting annoyed and not about to get all shooty.
Lily stood on tiptoes and kissed Sward.
Despite the relative heat of the town, her lips were still a little numb with cold. Not Sward’s, though. She removed a glove and stroked the tight green slab of his cheek. His skin was cool and waxy, but his lips were peppery hot.
Sward relaxed into the kiss, devouring her as only a Zhoogene could.
From what felt like a great distance away, she felt Sward’s hand clasp her butt. He parked it there awkwardly, like a hand-shaped piece of equipment clamped to a magnetic attachment point.
If his embrace was unconvincing, there were no worries on the kissing score. Her lips responded to his every whim, but it was the taste of him that was so addictive. She ran the tip of her tongue along the inside of his lips where he tasted of spiced lava. Shocks of pure sensation shot through her tongue and flushed her cheeks and throat. They grew in intensity but kept just the pleasurable side of pain.
Her ears filled with distant moans, and it took a long time before she realized they were her own.
All part of the act, she told herself.
“Will you cut it out!”
Sward released her from his lips. Breathless, she regarded the Cora’s World soldier. He had removed his glacier mask and she saw he was younger than Osu, with a finely chiseled nose, and a hint of aristocratic blue in eyes filled with horror.
“That,” he said indignantly, “is a sight no one should have to see. You expect that kind of thing among aliens but for a human to do that with a xeno?” He shuddered. “Who are you? Show me ID.”
“ID?” Lily exclaimed. “This is Rho-Torkis, not bloody Zeta-Arcelia. Why would we carry ID? I’m Lily and this here’s Sward. We’re traders in mineral rights. Now, it’s your turn, soldier boy. Who are you and what gives you the authority to say drent like show me ID?”
The rebel squared his shoulders like a jack-head. “This region is now under the jurisdiction of the Pan-Human Progressive Alliance. An administration office will be set up in Raemy-Ela in a day or so. You must report there by the end of the week to be processed and allocated ID credentials. If you possess weapons, they will need to be surrendered.”
“Panhandlers?” said Lily incredulously. “You Panhandlers are annexing planets now?”
“Watch your tongue! We’re merely liberating this world and setting up a base of operations. The shortened term is ‘the Rebellion’, and you would do well to remember that if you want to avoid some very painful re-education.”
“But… but you’re Cora’s World regular soldiers,” said Sward.
Careful, Greeny. It took all of Lily’s willpower to avoid hissing a warning at her Zhoogene companion who had forgotten to
act drunk. He also seemed to have forgotten that they’d already seen Cora’s World scouts. That was the problem with Sward: all instinct and no details.
She rather liked that about him, but this was not a time to appreciate his gloriously simple nature.
The rebel was looking at the Zhoogene through narrowed eyes. “I’m a billeting and requisition officer,” he said slowly, looking for a reaction.
“But if you’re staying here…”
Lily took advantage of the temporary halt in Sward’s thought processes as he pondered the implications of the rebel presence, sweeping up for another kiss before he said something really dumb.
“Leave the politics to the soldiers,” she whispered when she broke for air. “We’re just here for the Leezore and xonryllium. And... having a good time.”
She closed her eyes and advanced on his intoxicating lips once more, her tongue tip in the vanguard.
But she tasted only cool air.
With his hands on her shoulders, Sward gently pushed her away.
“The rebel has gone,” he explained.
“Good. It’s just the two of us, lover.”
Sward whispered into her ear. “We are not lovers, Sergeant Hjon. I like humans, but not in that way. I find your species sexually repulsive, and I hope you feel the same way about mine.”
She winked at him. “It’s Lily to you, pal. And consider your hopes dashed. Same as most daughters and sons of Earth, Zhoogenes make me hot. Always have done. You have no idea how many of my favorite dreams feature you as their star, Sward.”
Like the Cora’s World rebel a few minutes earlier, Sward stared at her with horror in his golden eyes.
Then they both collapsed into laughter, supporting each other to keep from falling onto the sidewalk.
“Panhandlers, eh,” said Lily. “Let’s hope Sybutu and his friends aren’t already here, because if they are, the hopeless buffoons will blunder right into them.”
“Yeah, that’s a complication we don’t need. Let’s get back to the lieutenant.”
Chimera Company - Rho-Torkis Box Set Page 16