by Tim Marquitz
“Is it wrong that his legs look great in that getup?” Lina asked, sighing.
“Very wrong,” Torbon answered, pretending to hack up a hairball as he turned away. “So very wrong.” His whiskers were pinned to his face, ears twitching.
Dent’s dress returned to the plain black uniform, and he grinned at his wide-eyed audience. “The suit will even create accessories such as jewelry and whatnot, but understand that on a molecular level, it’s all one piece. While you and everyone else will see the accessory as you imagine it to appear, it can’t be removed from the suit and will be reabsorbed into the whole should you or someone else attempt to separate it from the rest. If someone is paying attention when that happens, the whole illusion might well be blown, so be careful with how you choose to accessorize.”
“That’s amazing,” Taj said, admiring Dent’s creativity and technical prowess. They’d had none of this type of technology on Krawlas, everything old and worn down and carted over from Felinus 4 by Mama Merr, Beaux, and the rest of the Furlorians when they’d fled.
“The suit also comes with an optic-controller,” Dent continued, gesturing to his right eye. “Mine doesn’t have it as I already have all the circuits installed in this body, but we will implant one in each of you. This will give you complete access to the suit’s systems and link you to me so we can conduct operations privately.”
“This is gacking cool and all,” Torbon said, “but I’m kinda curious as to why we need such a fancy suit if this is a clandestine mission where we’re supposed to keep a low profile.”
“About that…” Dent grinned. “I apparently forgot to mention that our cover story is that of visitors from the distant planet of Krawlas,” he said, chuckling as he did.
Torbon raised his hands questioningly, glancing around at the crew. “And, other than fuzzy over there…”
Krawg growled.
“…that’s exactly what we are.”
“Not exactly,” Dent told him, pausing a moment before going on. “The Federation has arranged for us to visit Zoranthan as guests of the current ruling family, the Orgesse Clan. They are expecting…uh, royalty.”
“Royalty?” Torbon asked.
“That’s what I said, wasn’t it?” Dent replied, offering up a shrug as a mirror of Torbon’s usual response. “We’re to pretend we are royalty, or more specifically you four—” He pointed to each of the Furlorians in turn. “—who are to be emissaries of your people, there to enter into a trade agreement with the Orgesse Clan in hopes that you will have something to help them maintain control over the planet. We will be staying at the Orgesse Palace for the duration of our trip.”
“Wait!” Taj bristled, sitting up and glaring at the AI’s android body. “So, you’re saying we’re supposed to fly right into the middle of things and pretend to be royalty, all while we try and track down our target and rescue him from Rowl knows where without anyone noticing what we’re doing?”
“When you put it like that, it sounds quite preposterous, doesn’t it?” Dent answered. “But yes, that’s the plan in a nutshell.” He grinned. “By the way, how’s your acting?”
Chapter Three
Taj drew in a deep breath as she watched the planet of Zoranthan fill the view screen. Brilliant white clouds swam over the blue orb looming before them.
While they’d spent the night preparing and studying everything they could about their target and the planet, seeing it now before them made it glaringly real.
They arrived in the ship the Federation had loaned them, a sleek pleasure ship, the Arrant. Dent crowed about it over and over as they activated the gate drives and skipped across the galaxy to Zoranthan.
“This is soooo much better than the Discordant,” he repeated for the fifteenth time since they’d left port.
Taj ignored him and stared at the view screen, unable to pull her gaze away.
Dozens of ships filled the space around them, each bearing the Orgesse Clan’s symbol, a hammer set between a wreath vaguely shaped into a V. Black on red, it stood out sharply against the cold gray steel of the guard ships hovering about to ensure their safe arrival.
“That’s an awful lot of firepower hanging around out there,” Cabe said, eyes wide and staring as the small armada encircled them.
“The opposition forces, specifically the Talaz and Orv Clans, have aggressive pirate navies,” Dent stated.
Taj glanced over her shoulder to watch him speak as she hadn’t yet gotten used to his voice coming out of the Dandrinite form.
“After scanning the open Zoranthan databases, both groups are apparently known for raiding incoming visitors in an effort to disrupt Orgesse trade and relations,” Dent went on. “It appears to work as a number of distant allies have called off talks after having their envoys assaulted or destroyed while visiting the planet.”
“Great,” Torbon muttered. “Nothing like getting blasted out of space before our mission even starts.”
Den shook his head. “That’s unlikely, Torbon,” he said. “Scanners are clear, barring the Orgesse crafts and the bot leading us in. It seems the clan is taking every precaution to ensure our arrival is unimpeded, and our sudden arrival has likely forced their political opponents onto their heels.”
“The Federation’s doing in clearing the way?” Lina asked.
“Unlikely,” Dent replied. “If the chatter is to be believed, it’s more your supposed royal status that has them up in arms. The prospect of trading them Toradium-42 has the Orgesse Clan excited. It’s something they can use to fend off their opponents and gain the upper hand in negotiations. The last thing they want to do is compromise that arrangement or allow their enemies to interfere.”
“Did we really need to promise them the Toradium-42?” Torbon asked. His ears fluttered in disgust.
“We’re not actually providing it,” Taj clarified. “Not that we have access to it to begin with. We’re just floating the idea in front of them as cover while we’re here. We have the specs on the mineral and can answer questions about it easily enough on the fly, which makes it great leverage and an easy story to run with. Everyone wants a new power source that’s gack near inexhaustible. That’s what we’re offering them…in theory.”
“Still feels like we’re taking a chance cluing them in to its presence on Krawlas,” Torbon countered. “What’s to stop them from trying to get the information as to the planet’s whereabouts out of us and going there to take it, just like the Wyyvans?”
“He’s right. We have no idea what happened to Grom Hadar,” Cabe stated. “How do we know the Orgesse Clan isn’t responsible for his disappearance?”
Taj shrugged. “We don’t know, hence the reason General Reynolds sent us here in the first place. It’s our job to find out and get Grom out of here before anything happens to him.”
“How do we know something hasn’t happened to him already?” Torbon wondered aloud, his hands raised. “The General’s intel says he disappeared over a week ago, possibly longer.”
“We don’t know that either,” Taj admitted with a sigh, “but if we’re walking into this mission thinking the worst from the get-go, we might as well turn around and go back to Corzant and forget all about the mission.”
“We can’t do that,” Lina growled.
“Gacking right we can’t,” Taj agreed. “We’re here because there is so little information available regarding what happened to Grom Hadar. It’s our job to figure that out and to get him off planet safely. The Federation is depending on us, and I have no intention of letting them, or Grom, down.”
Torbon sighed. “Fine.”
The Arrant shuddered as it docked in a space berth, the guidance bot having led them into place, the ship’s systems shutting down in response.
“Game faces on,” Taj called out, triggering her suit through the eyepiece, marveling at the seamless integration of the optic.
Within the span of a second, the plain black outfit she wore shifted and changed into her cover outfit. A long, r
ed cloak swooped down her shoulders, its gold embroidery standing out in sharp contrast. Her dress scraped the floor as she turned to admire herself in the reflection from the dark view screen.
Her bangs had been pulled back and tied into a long braid that hung behind her, leaving her face exposed to the world. She sneered at her reflection, annoyed that she had to appear so open, but she couldn’t picture royalty hiding behind the fluff of their hair. Her eyes gleamed in the view screen, and she caught the reflection of the others as they willed their suits to transform. She turned to admire them.
The crew looked fantastic.
Cabe and Torbon wore long, grayish-blue coats that hung to mid-thigh and were accessorized with belts. They wore loose-fitting pants stuffed into calf-high boots that thumped on the floor when they moved.
Lina had split the difference between Taj’s and the other’s outfits. She had on a long cloak, but she’d eschewed the dress in exchange for a shirt and pants closer to that of Cabe and Torbon, though frillier and in a majestic purple rather than the plain blue-gray the guys chose. She’d also tied her hair back into twin braids that hung nearly to her waist.
Taj glanced past the Furlorians to where Krawg and Dent stood. Dent was expectantly fancy, his outfit what Taj pictured true royalty would wear despite his cover story being that of their emissary and representative.
He wore a sleek silk shirt with a high collar that accentuated his long neck. His pants were tight, form-fitting, and the material shined in the light until the point they disappeared into the tops of his black boots.
Out of them all, Krawg’s look was the most minimalist, clearly designed for function rather than appearance.
Designated as their bodyguard, the giant Ursite kept the plain black aesthetic of the original suit, only adding a few armored pieces here and there, like pauldrons, wrist and shin guards, and a narrow gorget that barely reined in the chaos of fur at his neck in order to affect a more military appearance. At his waist were a pair of blaster pistols, and a powerful bolt rifle was slung over his back.
Taj didn’t expect their hosts to let him keep them, but they were largely for looks anyway. Thanks to Dent, the suits had been designed to absorb small weapons into their mass and make them part of the suit so the crew would always have a weapon handy should they need it. Taj grinned as she pictured the surprise when she and the others pulled weapons out of nowhere.
“Our escort is here,” Dent announced. “The shuttle to the planet is docking now.”
“Everyone know their role?” Taj asked.
“We’re just ourselves,” Torbon muttered. “Not like that’s that hard to remember.”
“You’re supposed to be your better self,” Taj corrected, wagging a finger his way. “Watch the cussing and speak properly so there’s no confusion in translation.”
“You sound like Mama Merr,” Torbon complained, his shoulders slumped.
“Be grateful I’m not Mama or I’d bruise your knuckles for that lazy posture,” she told him.
Lina chuckled. “I don’t know how many times she popped his hands for slouching in his desk during lessons.”
Torbon slipped his hands behind him, hiding them as he straightened. “More times than I want to remember,” he admitted. “You better not start that gack.”
“Language,” Cabe warned, grinning the entire time.
Torbon sighed again. “This is gonna suck.”
“Probably,” Taj admitted with a laugh. “Now, let’s go meet the shuttle and get on our way. Grom and the General are counting on us.”
She started off toward the Arrant’s hangar bay, her heart pounding in her chest with excitement. This was what she’d always wanted, the opportunity to travel the universe and do more than chase down trrilacs and babysit wild balborans.
Taj had been given a chance to make a difference in the universe, and she was gacking well gonna make the most of that opportunity.
The shuttle was an automated affair, barely doing more than acknowledging the crew’s presence in a mechanized voice and ushering them into seats for the trip planet-side, for which Taj was grateful. She wanted a few more minutes to steel her nerves before the mission started in earnest, and she didn’t need an audience for it.
The trip, fortunately, was short. On the ground, she sucked in a deep breath as the shuttle doors opened and the Zoranthian entourage appeared outside, all smiles and welcoming faces. She returned a smile of her own, letting her breath out easy.
She was ready.
Taj let Krawg and Dent lead the party out of the shuttle to cement the appearance that the two were servants of the royals inside. It felt weird doing so, she thought, but it was how things needed to be until they’d accomplished their mission and slipped away with Grom Hadar.
“Greetings,” the lead representative of the Orgesse Clan called out as Dent and Krawg moved to stand in front of him. “I am Zel Ga’Vor, advisor to Queen Rilan Orgesse, matron saint of the Orgesse Clan. Welcome to Dulta, the capital city of Zoranthan.”
Krawg stood his ground without so much as blinking, eyes scanning the tarmac, while Dent bowed and returned the greeting, giving Taj an opportunity to scope out the entourage without appearing overly anxious as she and the rest of the Furlorian crew filed out of the shuttle.
Zel was a wiry little man with graying hair, which was well on its way to balding. Strands fluttered across his pinkish scalp like flags waving in the wind. His eyes were narrow slits, all four of them, gleaming like yellow dots above his wide, grinning mouth. His nose was little more than a tiny bump squeezed between his mouth and double-eyes.
He wore long white robes with the Orgesse symbol embroidered over his heart, but that was the extent of his ornamentation. Simple sandals covered his feet and he had on no rings or jewelry of any kind, nothing to indicate rank or wealth. Taj wondered if that was normal here, and she was glad she’d chosen to minimize her accoutrements.
“Pleasure to meet you, Zel,” Taj answered, turning up the wattage on her smile. While she and the others were meant to be royalty, their actual cover story was that they were the children of the true monarch of Krawlas, princes and princesses, and though they spoke for their people, General Reynolds had sold the Furlorians as a bit wayward, troubled.
He’d meant to give them a little wiggle room in the negotiations should they struggle to maintain appearances or screwed up in some other way.
Her thoughts fluttering, Taj examined the remainder of the entourage. All eight of them were far more militant than the austere representative who’d first greeted the crew. They wore form-fitting black body armor interwoven with red highlights at the joints, but none of the soldiers—who were all female, Taj noted—wore helmets. Their heads were shaved down to fuzz, and each had a downward-pointing triangle tattooed beneath their lower left eye.
Taj caught a glimpse of a shimmer in one of the soldier’s upper eyes who glanced up at her, and she realized the soldiers wore an optical device similar to the one Dent had given the crew. She knew right away the soldier was scanning her just as Taj was examining the soldier, the optic taking in every detail and saving it for later use.
“The gathering of ladies behind me are Heltrol, the Orgesse Clan royal guard,” Zel said, motioning to the array of soldiers. “They are here for your protection, so I’d advise doing what they ask.”
The lead soldier stepped forward, the one Taj had noticed staring at her, and the woman offered a shallow nod.
“I am Commander Lei Rolkar, the queen’s personal guard,” she said, acknowledging each of the crew in turn, her gaze settling on Taj in the end. “If you will follow us to the vehicles, we will escort you to the palace.” The woman gestured toward a row of three hovercraft idling a short distance away. “We must, however, insist upon claiming your weapons,” she said, pausing before leading them off. “They will be returned to you upon your departure, of course.”
“Of course,” Taj mimicked, motioning for Krawg to hand over all of the weapons he’d ope
nly carried out.
The giant Ursite grunted as if unhappy with the choice, but he did as he was compelled, passing the rifle to one of the soldiers first, followed by both pistols. A second soldier circled him, eyeing him up and down then glancing at the rest of the crew before finally offering a nod to her commander.
“Please, follow me,” Rolkar told them, waving the crew on.
Zel smiled and matched their pace. “The queen will be thrilled to see you,” he said as the crew climbed into the middle of the three vehicles.
To Taj’s surprise, only Commander Rolkar and Zel climbed in with them, the representative closing the door behind them in the roomy vehicle and sitting across from them.
The rest of the soldiers climbed onto platforms Taj hadn’t originally seen mounted along the outside of the vehicle. She heard the sullen thump of magnetic clamps taking hold and glanced out the forward window. Soldiers filed out of the other vehicle and did the same to the vehicle in front, and Taj caught a glimpse of more doing the same behind them.
Zel grinned. “It’s a bit of a show of force and subterfuge at the same time,” the rep explained, apparently seeing her confusion as the caravan started off. “While the journey to the palace is not overly long, it winds through a rather heavily-populated area of Dulta. Always best to be safe.”
Krawg growled deep in his throat but said nothing, keeping up his role as the strong, silent guardian of the visiting royals.
Commander Rolkar grinned at him. “Worry not, we’ll keep your charges safe, large one. We’d simply rather err on the side of caution than take a chance with your wellbeing.”
“I presume the threat lies in the Orv and Talaz clans?” Dent asked, raising a manicured eyebrow.
