“Enthree? Hey, big bug, are you still with us?”
Enthree tilted her head clockwise through ninety degrees, a gesture of apology that was lost on the young human. “I apologize, Meatbolt. I am discomfited by our lack of activity, that’s all.”
“Relax, buddy. Vetch and Lily know what they’re doing. Anyway…” He took a long sip of his beer. “I’m opening up to you, girl. You could at least open your ears in return.”
Enthree was no more female than male, although it had seemed simpler to identify with one of the more common humanoid genders. And she didn’t have ears! One day, her patience with the humans would crack, but not with Meatbolt. There would never be the chance. Her hearts ached with the sadness of his fate. So she apologized once more and motioned with a forelimb for him to continue.
“So, I was saying, I never thought I’d miss anyone this way. You know, have feelings. Does that mean I’m getting old? Or soft?”
Another head tilt. “Remind me of whom you speak, my friend.”
The trooper drew his shaggy eyebrows together in a frown. That was good. He could still generate genuine human emotions. “Linh, big bug. Linh!”
“Of course. Elin Linh.” Lance Company, 2nd Battalion, 532nd Regiment of Militia. Vetch had been clear that they were not to advertise their Militia status in public, so she spoke the redacted parts of Linh’s identification in her head. “Estimated age: 22 standard Terran years. Height: 1.8 meters. Unladen mass: 196 pounds. Estimated gender: standard male. Oh, that’s interesting. Your previous sexual obsession known to me was Green Fish.”
“Yeah.” Meatbolt rolled his eyes for some inexplicable reason. He looked away in the direction of the stables where Vetch had posted his former mating partner. For a few seconds, he was lost in contemplation. “Green Fish… She’s the most beautiful girl in the galaxy, but it was weird. She’s just too close, like a sister. I love her, but like a sister, man.”
Enthree tilted her head anticlockwise. I’m not a man, Meatbolt.
But Elin Linh was. “I thought your mating preference was for females,” she inquired.
“It is... I think.”
The door to the side of the bar opened and the noise of a busy kitchen flooded out, propelling a Littorane waiter with his upper torso erect like a centaur. He was carrying three plates of hot pie.
First delivery was for Meatbolt who tucked into his steaming meal with gusto.
The smell of the pie helped to mask Meatbolt’s own corrupted scent, and that lifted Enthree’s mood a little. He is no longer fully human, she reminded herself. His decline is irreversible. Soon, I will be forced to kill you, my good friend.
“You see,” said Meatbolt, licking his lips, “I’m still young. Figure I should take a bite from every pie while I can. Drink from every tap. You get what I’m saying?”
“I believe I do. Enjoy today because tomorrow we die.”
“And that” – the human punctuated his words with a chunk of meat dripping with gravy on the tip of his knife – “is a perfect example of why we’re so superior to the Legion. I mean, if they were here in Raemy-Ela, can you imagine them rolling into a bar and rubbing shoulders with the locals? It would be against regulations or something. No, we’re utterly different.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Enthree replied carefully. “I have never thought to compare our party of speculative traders to a military organization.”
“Oh, yeah,” Meatbolt said after a moment’s confusion. “My bad.”
It was all so hearts-rending. Enthree rubbed her shoulders together despondently and looked away from the tragic sight of the innocent young human. Remember, he’s not fully Meatbolt anymore. Soon he’ll be lost completely.
“You all right, buddy?”
“I am,” she lied. “About your pie sampling... have you considered intimate interaction with a non-human?”
“Oh, yeah,” he sighed with such relish that she looked back at his face, finding it smug and deepening into a grin. “You remember Zec-Huyroff?”
“Juru Zec-Huyroff.” 4th Squadron, Rapid Deployment Wing, 2nd Reserve Division. “Estimated gender: standard female. Race: Kurlei. Wait, you had a Kurlei lover?”
“Yup!”
She’d never seen Meatbolt look so satisfied with himself. “Kurlei are dangerous predators,” she pointed out.
“I know.” If anything, the human looked even more pleased with himself.
“And me?” she countered. “I am the least humanoid person you know. Could you have a romantic liaison with me?
“A romantic liaison? What the hell, Enthree? You speak like someone out of the Orion Era. Where did you learn our language?”
“In a Federation school. Same as you.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, well...” Meatbolt sized up his friend, trying to see her from a new perspective. It didn’t seem to be working. “I don’t know, Enthree. Don’t take this the wrong way, buddy, but you might be a bridge too far. It would take a lot of beer. I mean, intoxication just shy of respiratory arrest and coma, but… yeah.” He shrugged. “Why not?”
They smashed their tankards together to seal the deal, spilling beer over the wooden table.
“Then it is agreed,” she said. “At the next opportunity, we both get dangerously drunk and if we survive the poisoning, we shall see where the encounter ends. Imagine what that group of repressed drones you mentioned earlier would make of such a thing.”
Meatbolt roared with laughter, but Enthree could not share it with him. Not this time. It felt like a betrayal to be speaking with him of a riotous future liaison that she knew damned well could never happen. She had no data on the effect of the Corruption on human physiology. Even if she had, the rate of takeover was dependent on multiple factors that she could not possibly know, but the boy surely had only a few days left at most in which he would still be capable of laughter.
When he can no longer laugh… She shuddered. That shall be my sign. That’s how I will know I can delay the mercy killing no longer.
Meatbolt peered at her in mock shock. He poked a finger at her head. “Is that a tear?”
“Yes. It is a natural reaction to cleanse my eyeballs of contaminants. Yours do the same.”
He frowned, not fully convinced. “Looks like weepy tears to me.” He brightened. “But that’s impossible. Must be the smoke from the kitchens.”
Humans! They had a strange compulsion to tell themselves that only their species could cry. Despite all the overwhelming evidence to the contrary, not least from their own xeno-biologists, they couldn’t bring themselves to believe that other species could weep.
For once, Enthree was glad of the distorted view humans had of reality.
She wept uncontrollably.
VETCH ARUNSEN
What was up with Enthree lately? Vetch pulled at his beard braids trying to figure out the bug. Ever since that encounter with the vampire cult of phony jack-heads, she’d been sticking close to Meatbolt. The lad had shrugged off the weird encounter, but the Muryani was acting like a mamma bear with a wounded cub.
Aliens! They fascinated him. But he couldn’t make sense of them most of the time.
Vetch took another bite of his pie, mopping the gravy off his whiskers with the back of his sleeve. Delicious. And seeing as the alien didn’t need to eat...
“Enthree,” he called. “Relieve Green Fish, will you? She deserves some of this food.”
The big insect twisted her body around and with slow deliberation rotated her head ninety degrees to the left... and kept going until her face was almost upside down.
Please, Vetch, don’t make me do this. I’m begging you.
He thought that was what she meant. Admittedly, his insect-to-human gesture translation wasn’t perfect, but she was definitely not thrilled by his assignment.
Vetch sucked in his lower lip. He’d have to fix Enthree’s sudden attachment to Meatbolt, but there were higher priorities today.
“Belay that,” he said. “Darant. Finish your page
and your dinner, quick as you can. Then relieve Green Fish. It’s your turn to look after some beasts. I’ve got my hands full with Enthree and Meatbolt. At least the beasts in the stables are broken in.”
Meatbolt laughed, but Darant didn’t. He lowered his book and stared at Vetch as if considering the worthiness of his request.
Damn! Forgot I’m no longer sergeant.
Everyone but the lieutenant acted as if Lily and Vetch still ran the squad between them, just as they always had.
Darant nodded. “Give me two minutes,” he said, easily enough, but the challenge had been made.
The trooper held his book close to his face with one hand while shoveling in hot pie with the other. Before he finished, though, Lily and Sward burst in.
Vetch knew immediately there was trouble.
Lily took a moment to give him the highlights in a whispered report before hurrying over to the door with the sign that read ‘Reserved for private use’ in several languages.
She left Sward in her wake, staring at Vetch with arms crossed.
“Lily says it’s time for answers,” the Zhoogene told him. “So do I.”
Vetch downed his beer while looking longingly at his half-eaten pie. “Guess Lily’s the boss now,” he said, wrapping his food in a napkin and stuffing it into a fold of his coat. “Everyone! Grab your gear and meet in the stables. Now!”
This time there was no resistance from Darant. They all followed him out into the shocking cold of the sheltered path that led to the stables. After a moment weighing the risk of removing the sentries, he also summoned Deep Tone and Rynter from the shadows. Together they pushed open the insulated double doors to the barn.
It was a different world inside, the cold replaced by – well, not exactly warmth but a welcome sense of shelter. The layer of wood shavings coating the stalls had soaked up the animal smells before spilling onto the main walkway. Vetch liked the honest feel to the place. It would be a pleasant place to sleep.
“Are we leaving?” asked Green Fish.
Her voice came from above, but Vetch couldn’t see her.
“Hey, Sarge. Over here.”
Vetch was impressed. The wall opposite the stalls was hung with tackle, feed attachments for a variety of beasts, and sundry other equipment. Above that was a block and tackle with a saddle resting on top. This was Green Fish’s perch. How she got up there was a mystery. He swore she must have wings.
“Well done,” he said. “You just earned two thousand points. And then lose three thousand for saying a military rank out loud when I told y’all not to. Anyways, Green Fish, don’t you keep up with the news? According to Shen, that rank isn’t even mine.” A few of them laughed at that. “Remember, you lizards, we’re not supposed to be advertising who we are. Stay up there for a moment, Fishy, and keep watch, but bend an ear to what I have to say.”
“We’re not as dumb as you think,” said Meatbolt. “We know the lieutenant is on a different agenda from you and Lily. What’s going on?”
“Ahhh…” Vetch rubbed a thumb along his lip. He’d been planning a long speech about how they had to choose the right path in their heart over following Shen’s orders, or some such drent. But without Lily beside him, he knew he’d screw up trying to put it into words.
“We’ll tell you later,” he said instead.
“Later tonight?” asked Meatbolt.
“Or later… after we’re all dead?” suggested Darant.
“Before we leave Raemy-Ela,” Vetch replied. “I need to grab Lily first. Those of you who can trust Lil’ and me just a few moments longer, keep the Saruswine company, keep quiet, and try not to kill anyone.”
“And the rest of us?” Deep Tone growled.
Vetch shot him a look of betrayal. And shock. He’d expected Deep Tone to back him to hell and back. “If you want to trust your own judgement – or want to suck up to Shen – then go back to the bar. I hear the pies are good. Everyone else, stay here but be ready to move out in case Lily and me come in hot.”
“You heard the sarge,” said Deep Tone gruffly. “I mean… Hell, he’s still the sarge in my book. He’s giving you a free choice. I’m not. Anyone but Vetch leaves this barn... I won’t forget, see?”
Heart buzzing with the vote of confidence, Vetch grabbed his war hammer from the gear stashed in the stall next to their oldest Saruswine, and hid it within his cloak before heading out.
Without the others, the short walk back to the bar felt very different. Ominous, threatening.
He turned abruptly and scanned the yard, expecting to see assailants but seeing no one. The yard was covered but snow had blown in. He saw no footprints. He must be imagining things.
Idiot! I’m the assailant here. Better get used to the idea of being a murderer, Vetch boy, cause I don’t reckon it’s the kind of stain that ever washes off.
He cursed himself all the way back to the bar. Even before setting out from Iceni, he knew he’d have to choose between Shen and Yazzie.
And since Shen hadn’t conveniently died on the way… He hated this more than anything he could remember, but he couldn’t dodge it any longer.
With one hand gripping the haft of his war hammer under his cloak, he pushed open the door to the bar.
VETCH ARUNSEN
Inside, the bar was eerily unchanged since Vetch had rounded up the troopers and made them accessories to mutiny.
Crumbled pastry was still scattered around Darant’s plate next to his empty tankard. His own table was being cleaned by the waiter.
It looked so normal, but it was not. His heart was pounding, and his hand was sweating as it gripped the hidden weapon that would be the means of his murderous intent.
But he saw no other choice.
He advanced on the door behind which Julius Shen was tucking in to a rich dinner, oblivious to his fate.
“I ordered heated pies to be delivered to the stables,” said Lily.
She was standing at the bar. He hadn’t even realized she was here.
“Figured we’d be needing them,” she explained. “As for you, Vetch Arunsen, come sit next to me and spend a moment before you do something you’ll regret.”
The waiter cleaning Vetch’s table froze.
“Sometimes you have to make a choice,” Vetch told her. “I don’t like either option, but my people need me to make a decision, and that’s what I’ve done.”
Earlier, Vetch had ordered the food and drink via the archaic standard tongue of the ancient Exiles, combined with a lot of pointing and miming. His words to Lily should be gibberish to the waiter, but the Littorane set down the stack of dirty plates and his cleaning cloth and tiptoed away in the direction of the kitchens. Literally tiptoed on all six feet as if doing so waved an impenetrable shroud of invisibility around him. If they were gonna get through this alive, Vetch wanted to understand the Littoranes a whole lot more. First, they had to get through today.
“You’re right,” said Lily, “but a good leader knows how to get themselves informed first. Then they make the big calls. So come here, big fella, and let me inform you. It’ll take three minutes, tops.”
Vetch looked at the Reserved for private use sign, then at the tail of the tiptoeing waiter as it disappeared into the sanctuary of the kitchens.
“Make it quick,” he said, and joined her on a humanoid-compatible stool.
“Already ahead of you.” She pushed a shot glass of dark liquid across the bar top and revealed an identical glass in front of her.
“Can’t let you go ahead with what you planned,” she said. “I’ve let you take on too much of a burden already. You can’t have something like this on your conscience. Not yet. It’ll eat away at you more than you realize. Besides, you’re an ignorant arse, Vetch. There are easier ways. Drink up and follow me!”
He made the mistake of sniffing the drink as he brought his heated glass closer. It looked like whiskey but had the aroma of bitter herbs steeped in hot urine. He tipped it down his throat and slammed the glass down. It ta
sted as bad as it smelt, but as the warm liquid slipped down his throat, it developed a delicious aftertaste of spicy honey.
“Not bad,” he said. “I thought you wanted to tell me something.”
“Not tell. Show.”
She hopped off her stool and he followed her through an unmarked door, along a wide corridor, and into another bar he hadn’t seen before. About twenty human men and women relaxed, drink in hands, standing or perching on benches around a central stone hearth in which a log fire blazed, threatening the wooden floorboards with sparks.
All wore the uniform of the Cora’s Hope Division.
Some of the rebels were armed.
And every last one of them was staring at Lily and Vetch.
LILY HJON
“Hey, heroes,” Lily announced. “I was in the Militia once.”
Weapons were readied and leveled at the two troopers.
She put on her sweetest smile. “Yeah, I pointed out that my fellow officers were corrupt slime wipes, and for my troubles got tortured, given five years hard labor, and kicked out in disgrace. So I was just wondering, come the revolution, what are you going to do with the Militia?”
The tension eased a little. One of the rebels eased her way out of the crowd to meet the two strangers. She wore sergeant’s stripes on her uniform, and the same scout unit insignia as the rebel Lily had watched the legionaries interrogate and execute a few days before.
“Many of the enlisted Militia troopers are as much a victim of a corrupt system as anything else,” said the rebel as she eyed them suspiciously. “Not all, though, and precious few officers have a shred of decency. Naturally, the Militia will be purged. However, those who are blameless will have nothing to fear, and will be invited to join a new citizen’s army.”
“That’s what I was hoping. Well, seems to me that the revolution has already come to this part of Rho-Torkis. So quit whetting your whistle for a few minutes and go visit the private room off the other bar. There’s a man in there with an elegant shirt and diamond earrings worth more than you ruffians earn in a decade. I heard him say something about needing to lead his patrol back to Fort Iceni.”
Chimera Company - Rho-Torkis Box Set Page 19