Chimera Company Season 2 - Deep Cover

by Tim C. Taylor

  Still, you could never be sure what worked and what didn’t these days, and that meant their situation was precarious.

  Which had certain upsides…

  He smiled at Izza whose face flushed with a verdant glow. She put about that he was the risk taker in their partnership, but his lady positively thrived on danger. The blues and pinks in her eyes smoldered like hot nebulae.

  His mind was made up.

  It was the eyes. Always her eyes.

  “Catkins,” he announced, “secure the carriage.”

  “Me?” The Gliesan looked at Fitz with worry in his eyes. He was Izza’s polar opposite: much happier in the mechanical certainty of his engineering compartment.

  “Yes, you.” Fitz handed over the F-Cannon. “I trust you with this.”

  “But I…”

  Fitz squeezed Catkins’ shoulder with one hand while pressing the cannon against him with the other. “Relax. I trained you how to fire it myself.” He pointed to the door into the neighboring carriage, which was empty at the moment. “All you have to do is watch that door.”

  “This seems irrational.”

  Izza ran a hand over Fitz’s neck, and eased it down his spine to caress his butt. She wasn’t in season, but excitement was bringing her out in early pre-buds.

  Catkins bowed. “I understand. You require conjugal release.”

  “Yeah…” Fitz coughed awkwardly. “Not the term I’d use. But I’ll buy it if you shut up and watch that door.”

  He extended his hands toward Izza. “My lady?”

  She placed hers over his. “My Lord,” she replied huskily.

  Fitz choked. She had never called him that before, except when she was in season. He just had time to check that the blooms were not yet on her head before she tackled him to the carriage deck and straddled him, pinning him down.

  “I suppose you want this?” He reached into his shirt and offered her his Guild token.

  She took the disc and pushed it against her own. The slats in the lower halves of the tokens went haywire in purple and yellow flashing, the two devices communing with each other at a deep level below their comprehension.

  His Izza was such a romantic. The parallel of their tokens and their bodies interfacing affected her so deeply that she’d written volumes of poetry on the matter. Mostly in various Zhoogene languages, but when she’d recently started expressing her feelings in Standard too, her words had moistened his eyes.

  He took a breath of her scent. She offered only a hint of the delicately sweet aroma of full-season bloom, but it was all he needed for every muscle and nerve to enter a hyper-intensive state.

  With a scream of exertion, he threw her off him, tossing her high enough to bump against the carriage roof while he rose to his feet. She came to rest in his arms, her legs wrapped around his hips.

  She wriggled in his grip so she could press her beautiful waxy head against his and fill his vision with her marbled eyes.

  His own eyes prickled. They felt hot, and he knew hers would feel the same intense burn that somehow never seriously damaged sight or eyelids, but was hot enough that the moisture in their orbs was vaporizing, throwing a hot curtain of mist between them.

  Pink and cyan ribbons waved through her irises, pulsing through neighboring shades, but never straying far from cerulean blue and amaranth pink. Reflected in her corneas, he could see his own flashing bursts of lilac intensity.

  He knew from the many times they’d watched back recordings of their intimate moments that both pairs of eyes were communing in synchronized pulses, much like their Guild tokens.

  On the rare occasions he’d met other mutants, he’d heard whispered tales of psychic abilities and foreknowledge.

  Of sorcery.

  But he’d never felt anything like that with anyone but Izza.

  Lovers of every species had always told themselves that their love was special, but his and Izza’s was truly unique.

  She told him it was because their love was so intense.

  He would reply that it was because she looked so good unwrapped.

  So long as the two of them were together, it didn’t matter why they were so good.

  He wanted to make love to her. Even with Catkins standing a few feet away, he wanted sex. To Izza, though, the eye thing was an altogether more enhanced level of intimacy.

  He supposed she was right, of course. But all the same…

  Fitz sighed and allowed himself to be swept along into the inexplicable current that flowed between them. He walled off any frustration with the thought that if they ever did get away to safety in the Phantom, he would leave Sinofar in charge for a few days while her captain and first mate secluded themselves in the privacy of their cabin, and attended to unfinished business.

  The flow carried him far away from the carriage flinging them through the enormous space station. As always when they connected like this, they felt they were but two distant elements of a gestalt being that forever yearned to draw more individuals within its heart. The flow pulled them to the Dyson ring that mined the nearby gas giant.

  They tarried there.

  The ring held secrets, hints of the deep past and of potential futures. It was trying to tell them something. A secret it was vital they knew…

  They reached for this tantalizing knowledge, but it was pixie dust, evanescent teases that would not reveal themselves.

  Yet for fleeting moments, these glimpses of a deeper understanding firmed and slowed.

  They had seized fragments before.

  Would they catch anything this time?

  OBSERVATION TEAM GAMMA

  “What are they doing?” Silasja scratched her head. “It wouldn’t exactly be the first time we’ve caught passengers having sex on the rail system, but Tango1 and Tango2 are… Hell! I don’t know what they’re doing.”

  “They’re both mutants,” Sergeant Fon-Derez replied. “Both deviant.” He laughed at Silasja. “Why? Were you hoping to see the plant woman in the full glory of her naked bloom?”

  “I…”

  “Never done it with a Zhoogene before, have you?”

  She cleared her throat. “No, Sergeant.”

  Fon-Derez nodded sagely. “Zhoogenes in bloom. One of the wonders of the universe. And the weird thing is they feel the same about humans. Not Gliesans, nor Pryxians, Xhiunerites or anyone else. Just us. It’s like the universe gave you a cheat code, Silasja. I suggest you use it. If you survive the fallout after that fuck up in District Metz. So keep your eyes on the feeds and don’t indulge in your green fantasies until this is all over. If you lose track of those two, I guarantee personally that you will regret it to the end of days.”

  “Yes, Sergeant.”

  Silasja placed her full attention on the carriage swinging along the mag-rail leading toward the center of the station.

  She did her best to obey her sergeant as she observed everything.

  But the images were so distracting.

  TAVISTOCK FITZWILLIAM

  Fitz tensed as he raced into the docking bay, half expecting a trap.

  Instead of running into laser crossfire from hidden auto-sentries, he ran into a card game.

  Sinofar looked up, keeping her cards close to her chest. “Hello, Captain. Lieutenant.”

  His crewmembers were sitting against the bulkhead, using bits of worn starship parts for chips. Hell, they’d even dealt Lynx in, which was always a bad idea.

  “What happened?” Izza demanded.

  “Military ship pulled into the neighboring bay,” Sinofar explained.

  “I took a good look,” Fregg added. “It’s a corvette. Special variant with force keels like you’ve never seen.”

  “Were they on twin-nacelle booms?” asked Catkins.

  “Concentrate!” yelled Fitz.

  “Yes, Captain.” Sinofar tried again. “The bulkhead separating our two bays slid away and armed jacks marched into our ship. They opened up the hatch like they had the codes and turfed us out. I counted them as the
y came aboard and counted them all back off again, except for their officer who remained on board, waiting for you to show up.”

  Fitz’s good spirits were dragged down toward the depths of despair. Getting away wasn’t going to be easy. It never was.

  “This officer,” he said, “was she a female human? Short? Could be cute if she underwent an emergency personality transplant?”

  “I would say so, Captain.”

  “And her eyes, Sinofar… what color were her eyes?”

  “I cannot say. They were obscured by polarized material. Rather like your sunshades, in fact, but gold.”

  “Kanha Wei,” cursed Izza. She jogged toward the Phantom’s open hatch.

  “Next hand wins,” Fitz told his crew. “Then pack up and be ready to board. This could get ugly.”

  TAVISTOCK FITZWILLIAM

  “Get out of my husband’s seat!”

  “I thought we had a deal, Fitzwilliam.” Kanha Wei’s slight frame was hidden by the back of the pilot’s seat, but her feet were resting, ankles crossed, on the flight console where his feet belonged.

  “And I thought JSHC was safe because you told me it would be.” He spun his seat around, so Wei faced them. “You lied. Now do as the lady says and get out of my damned chair.”

  “I didn’t lie. My intelligence was compromised. And that is one of the reasons I need you as assets.”

  “I see,” said Fitz. “Let me think about it. Hmm.” He pulled at his chin. “No. No way. I’m not running a team for you. Goodbye.”

  Kanha Wei held her hands out in a placatory gesture.

  It only riled Fitz more.

  “I came to tell you that you’re in danger,” she said. “There’s a tracker secreted on Phantom.”

  “By your people?”

  “No. By the bad guys. People are out to kill you, Fitzwilliam.”

  “Really? Oh, is that why we had to dust an assassination squad in District Metz?

  “What?”

  Wei took off her shade band. Azhanti! Those blazing lilac eyes… This was how he’d looked to Izza back on the train. “I didn’t know about that,” she admitted.

  “Well now you do.”

  “And now that you are more informed,” said Izza, slipping on a pair of knuckle spikes for emphasis, “get the hell off our ship.”

  “The both of you together couldn’t take me down,” said Wei. “Probably. But I wouldn’t want to find out for sure and, besides, I keep trying to explain that I need you. Before you fly off, I still need you to load up the legionary and Militia part of your team.”

  “I don’t trust you,” said Izza trumping her knuckle spikes by drawing her plasma pistol. “If we’ve been bugged, we will find the device and destroy it. And whatever you think of your fighting prowess, Kanha Wei, this is our home turf. If I am to die this day, it will be a great consolation to drag you down to the Five Hells with me.”

  Wei gave Izza an appraising look that terminated in a nod of respect. “I understand what he sees in you. For the life of me, though, I just can’t see it the other way around. Okay, let’s try another tack.”

  She shrugged off her cloak.

  “Not again,” Fitz groaned. “She does this, Izza. I don’t know why, but this is her thing. It’s a compulsion for nudity. Can’t you keep it modest this time?”

  “We are all laid bare before the eyes of the Empress,” Wei intoned. “She sees all. Knows all.”

  To Fitz’s relief, she wasn’t naked beneath her cloak this time, but she pulled down enough clothing to show the upper reaches of her tattoo: the woman with lustrous indigo hair.

  “I swear on the Immortal Empress,” said Wei solemnly. “May she strike me down and dishonor me if I lie. I knew nothing of the danger you would face on this station. I will fulfill the terms we agreed earlier and help you to evade pursuit by neutralizing the tracker. In return, you will fulfill your terms of the bargain.”

  Fitz expected Izza to be angry, but her beautiful eyes were wide with fear when she turned to him.

  “Nyluga-Ree wants us to return to her immediately,” she said. “She made contact a few hours ago. If we don’t serve a ten-year indenture, she’ll have you killed. The hard way.”

  “No, she won’t.” Fitz shook his head. “She’s just being a little frisky. Ree loves me really.” As he spoke, he re-ordered the list of the powerful people that he knew bore him a grudge, and weighed it against the latest promises he’d made. Coming to a decision, he pointed at Wei’s tattoo. “I’m on her side.”

  Izza thought for a moment and collected herself. “I think you are very wise.” She holstered her pistol and started removing the knuckle spikes. “We work with Kanha Wei.”

  “Wait,” said Fitz. “What just happened there? Now you’re okay to work with that woman?”

  Izza shrugged. “Wei swore on the Empress.” When Fitz remained unimpressed, she added, “Don’t you ever say a prayer to the Empress in your hour of need?”

  “No. No, I really don’t. I can’t believe you, Izza. You’ve never talked of this before.”

  She shrugged. “Of course not. It is a private matter.”

  “Azhanti! What’s wrong with you?”

  She smirked. “Azhanti, eh, Tavistock? You yourself invoke the name of the Empress.”

  “I thought her name was Indiya.”

  “She goes by many names. Littoranes call her Sh’Ieddyz S’Fsh – The Holy Wrath. Azhanti is one of the names commonly used by humanoids.”

  “And now you trust Kanha Wei. Do you really understand who she is? The things she’s done? She shows you a tattoo, and instantly you believe in her.”

  Izza raised a golden eyebrow. “Didn’t you, husband?”

  Fitz stared at the two women, now in an unholy cahooting alliance.

  His wife had been right to talk about home-turf advantage. But there were secret mods within the hidden traps that even she didn’t know about.

  With nothing more than a few words, he could disable both women, throw them off his ship and be away.

  He didn’t need anyone else to fly Phantom.

  But it would be a lonely existence without Izza beside him.

  Wei gave him a disappointed look, as if to say the thought process in his head was clear to see, and she was impatient for him to reach the obvious conclusion.

  “Time is not our friend,” she nudged.

  Fitz grinned at her, because he’d come to the conclusion many years before that the galaxy treated him a little better when he smiled at it.

  “Well then,” he said. “I guess that’s settled. Let’s go round up the rest of Chimera Company.”

  OSU SYBUTU

  “Grab your gear. Fresh assignment, boys. We’re outta here.”

  Bronze and Zavage were lying on their racks in a tiny berthing compartment. They looked up at Osu in surprise.

  Then they rushed to comply, grunting in unison when their bodies reminded them that they had been wounded in the escape from Rho-Torkis, and not yet fully healed.

  The sight of two grunting sappers of the Legion vacating their berthing was maybe not quite stirring, but sure gave Osu a feeling of reassurance. At last, life was beginning to move in more familiar patterns.

  Their orders were to board a commercial supply ship to Eiylah-Bremah. There they would locate Vetch Arunsen and bring him back to Joint Sector High Command for a proper Legion debriefing. One carried out in conjunction with the Legion.

  This still wasn’t the Legion work he’d trained for, and the rest of 27th Squadron were still frozen irradiated ash in the ruins of Camp Faxian. Nonetheless, it was a step in the right direction.

  His good mood faltered when he realized that even in his own head, he was still referring to the former SpecMish operative as Bronze, reluctant to use his service name for fear it would provoke dangerous attention.

  Hines Zy Pel.

  Nope! The man’s real name still felt dangerous.

  No matter that the Legion had just used the name ‘Zy Pel’ to
issue him fresh orders. Osu figured he simply wasn’t ready to trust the galaxy again.

  Not even here in Joint Sector High Command.

  Not yet.

  ——

  “Slow down, Sybutu,” said Bronze, wincing in pain as they jogged away to the closest mag-rail platform. “We need to think about this.”

  Osu slowed down all right.

  “That’s, Sergeant to you,” he growled. “You belong to me now, SOTL.”

  “I’m sorry, Sergeant. I just get nervous when orders make no sense. Why are we going to pick up Arunsen in person? The Militia could simply order him back here.”

  “To keep it off the books?” Osu suggested, and then cursed himself for answering Bronze’s question. “It doesn’t matter. Our orders were given to me in person by a full colonel. That’s all any of us needs to know. The officer didn’t feel the inclination to justify his thinking, and neither do I. Now, pick up those damned feet, SOTL. The Pride of Lienport is delaying departure until we board. They won’t wait forever.”

  They picked up the pace, but Bronze wasn’t finished with his insubordination. “How do you know this colonel was genuine? After what happened on Rho-Torkis, the chain of command runs from you, Sergeant, straight to General Moritz at divisional HQ. Everyone else is dead. Does the colonel report to him?”

  Osu shuddered to a halt. “Listen good, both of you. This is Joint Sector High Command, not a random children’s birthday party. The people who wear officer’s insignia on this station have earned that right, and you will not challenge their legitimate instructions, unless in exceptional circumstances where you are privy to tactical information that has not yet passed up the chain of command. And since we have just been debriefed, this is not such a scenario. I don’t want a peep out of either of you until we’re walking through the boarding hatch of Pride of Lienport. We’re through rubbing shoulders with the Militia. You will once again comport yourself as legionaries.”

  He squared up to Bronze. “Acknowledge!”

  “Up the fuck shut, Sergeant. Got it.”

  “Make sure you have, SOTL.”