But he couldn’t see it. And he was sick of the sight of Fitzwilliam.
“Permission to check on my legionaries, Captain.” He thought of Green Fish in the med bay. He should check on her first. “Sorry. I meant to say my marines.”
“I got this,” Fitzwilliam answered cheerfully, waving him away. “Off you pop.”
Osu hurried away in search of someone he could respect.
There had been many close escapes in the last couple of days. Getting away from Fitzwilliam on the flight deck felt like the biggest escape of them all.
VOL ZAVAGE
Relaxing in the temporary safety of the jump tunnel, Vol Zavage contemplated the slumbering form in the medical bed and smiled at what he was about to do. He rested the data slate against the side of the bed and began to read in a long-dead Kurlei language.
Through slumbering valleys,
Fractal fire cascades within the lattice folds.
Bloated with mutagenic mists,
My hidden jewel, lays within,
Comes the Change.
And without, scarred by pressed servitude.
Was that a smile, come to the edges of Green Fish’s mouth?
Those lips. So plump and rough edged, quite unlike the rubbery slits of his own kind. They looked so unfinished.
Raw.
Primordial.
Her smile dimpled.
Was she mocking him from sleep?
No matter. He continued the ancient poem.
Bury,
Withhold.
Treasure,
Our secluded riches.
She was grinning now. And yes, he could feel her gentle teasing clearly in his mind now.
Perhaps this was a little ridiculous.
He was reading from a collection of classic works in K’Linh, the language of the old country that had once dominated the Southern Hemisphere of his homeworld, not that he’d ever been within a thousand light years of the place.
The language was long dead in its spoken form, its people and their cruel empire buried within history texts. Yet its subtleties came from a vocabulary in which each word had many meanings. Every line of K’Linh poetry was rich with artfully constructed ambiguities.
He grimaced. Constructed ambiguities summed up his life right now. He needed a commander he could trust to do the right thing.
Sergeant Sybutu wasn’t that man. Oh, he respected him enormously as a Legion NCO, but the sarge didn’t understand what was happening any more than Zavage did.
He leaned closer to Green Fish and breathed in her scent. He couldn’t protect his love if he didn’t know where an attack might come from. Nor she him. With all the tension and deceit washing through the Phantom, even here in jump transit, he didn’t feel secure.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” he said automatically, not wishing to burden her. The rescue from the hospital had aggravated her wounds. She needed to concentrate her energies on healing. But what kind of lover hid harsh truths from their partner? That was the human way, not his.
“I want to face forward to confront my enemies,” he said. “Instead I look behind, wondering which friend is really my foe. I’m a simple being, Green. I need a foundation of simple truths I can believe in.”
“You can trust me. Believe in that.”
“I…” Surprise exploded within him. Her mouth! It hadn’t moved when she spoke. She was still asleep. “I do, Green Fish,” he whispered. “I trust you.”
“Good,” she said, speaking through her mouth this time as she opened her dark eyes sleepily. “Then read me some more. You’d hardly started.”
“I didn’t realize you were awake.”
“I wasn’t. Not really. It’s just…” She yawned. “I like listening to your thoughts, Vol. They’re comforting. Restful.”
“But… you should not be able to hear them. Ours is a union divinely blessed. Unique. Precious as the last blossom of spring.”
“Too much, you dumb Kurlei.” She sounded so weak, but he treasured every labored word that spilled from those lips. “Dial it back, okay? Let’s just settle for saying it’s nice.”
“Nice? The word doesn’t do this miracle justice.”
“Tough. It’ll have to do its best for today. It’s all you’re getting.”
He stretched out his jaw in wonder at this marvelous being whose mind was already entwining around his in ways so perfect he feared he would choke with burning anticipation. And her warm human flesh invited him to explore her until their minds and bodies united in passion.
“Down, boy!” She cleared her throat. “Greenie’s not coming out to play today.”
He laughed and stroked back her hair before planting a kiss on her forehead in the human way, though he kept his head close. “Then heal fast, my love. You have no idea of what this connection we feel might mean for us.”
“Oh, believe me. I can. Can hardly stop imagining it.”
With her fleshy fingers she brushed away a kesah-kihisia frond that had fallen onto her head.
Then she thought better of it and pressed it gently to her temple.
To him it felt like exotic radiation passed between them through the conduit of his organ of empathy. Like the flux tubes linking Tej Prime to its Dyson ring.
Did she feel any of this?
No… she couldn’t be, because she released her grip and the connection slipped away.
But it had been there, all right.
“You shouldn’t be able to do this,” he told her, trying hard to suppress his eagerness and keep his voice gentle. “We shouldn’t. After years of close friendship, as a human you might feel a little of my mind in yours, and yet… A rarefied energizing force I do not understand connects us.”
“You’re full of bollocks, Vol. If there’s an energizing force, it’s the frustration we both feel because we haven’t been able to jump each other. Savage cold, burning cities…” – she sighed – “swords wielded by old friends… you should know that my life has always worked hard to block the path to lust sweet lust.”
Zavage gently rested his head on hers, allowing his fronds to spill over her. He meditated on his feelings for her, thrilling in the knowledge that she would hear them.
“You’re as soft as warm butter,” she told him. “Stay with me, Vol. Warm me with your thoughts as I sleep.”
Within seconds she was snoring. How did humans do that? He adored this person, but this was such an unlovely sound.
“Forgive me,” he whispered to her. “I am already late for the celebration our captain has called. I would rather sit with you, my Green Fish, but I need to learn more of this Tavistock Fitzwilliam.”
He clamped his mouth shut, suddenly fearing surveillance. Fitz and Zan Fey were complicated people with deep agendas he suspected weren’t entirely clear even to them. Which meant he couldn’t trust them.
The summons had been for drinks at the Captain’s Table at 19:30 hours. He looked at the slate. 19:36.
“It won’t take long,” he whispered. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Zavage lifted Green Fish’s hand and kissed it, returning it to her side with the gentlest of squeezes.
VOL ZAVAGE
“Ah, there he is,” gushed Fitz upon Zavage’s entrance. The captain rose and patted him on his shoulder.
On the surface, Fitz’s thoughts fizzed with effusive bonhomie consistent with his greeting. It wasn’t false, so much as deliberately layered on top of deeper emotions that were closed to Zavage. The human’s mind was complex and agile in ways Zavage could only glimpse in outline, because it was also tightly controlled. It was unlike any other human he’d met. Probably something to do with his ‘mutant’ nature.
“Good to have you here, Mr. Zavage. I know we’re keeping you from your favorite member of our new marine contingent. I hope you didn’t tire her out.”
“She’s sleeping now,” Zavage replied awkwardly. “I read to her.”
Fitz laughed. “Poetry, no doubt. I
don’t know your race well, but I do know that Kurlei and Jotuns consider themselves the Federation’s natural poets. Humans are poets too, in our own way. We specialize in the poetry of companionship.”
“Speaking of which,” said Bronze, thrusting a cold bottle into Zavage’s hand, “get those rubber-dot lips of yours around that.”
“Sit. Drink. Listen,” Sybutu told him.
Zavage joined Sybutu, Bronze and Fitz around the captain’s table. This, it turned out, meant the quarters he shared with the first mate. For a ship of this class, though, the compartment size was very generous, which tallied with the story he’d heard that Phantom once belonged to a powerful figure in the Outer Torellian Commerce Guild.
A painting of Fitz and Zan Fey was mounted above a bed large enough to accommodate a half-troop of armored legionaries. Zhoogene script was scrawled over it in fat blue pen. A rounded panel in the opposite bulkhead held two tiny bronze jars, each stoppered with a gleaming cut jewel. If he understood Zhoogene customs correctly, these were love safes, and the jewels red diamonds. Inside each lover’s jar would be a precious talisman of the other. Perhaps a data chip of video recordings, a clipping of head growth, or a ring. Whatever it was would hold a powerful memory.
But the Zhoogene herself, and the rest of the crew, weren’t here.
Zavage shrugged and took a swig of the beer, which was cold and refreshingly bitter.
“Since you’ve recently experienced interrogation,” said Fitz, “I thought it would be a gas to turn tables for a change. It’s your turn to ask me whatever you like. I might even answer.”
“Why did you bring Khallini to Rho-Torkis?” opened Sybutu.
“Money. We have… an aggressive debt repayment schedule to meet.”
“Did you know what he would do there?” Sybutu pressed.
“No. Asking questions is always dangerous in my line of work. So is not asking them at times, but in this case, I was nothing more than the driver.”
“How did you win the contract to smuggle Khallini to Rho-Torkis?” Sybutu continued. “Did he approach you directly, or did a third party bring you together?”
“I’m afraid that it is too dangerous for you to know.”
“Dangerous for who?” Zavage asked. “Us or you?”
“Quite!”
Sybutu snorted. “So, ask me whatever you like, so long as it is nothing to do with Lord Khallini.”
“So it seems.”
“Okay. Who sent those ships after us, and were they the same people who killed the admiral in District Metz?”
“An enigmatic young lady called Kanha Wei claims at least one of those outrages to be the work of this Department 9, which your Mr. Bronze informs me could be a branch of the Legion Special Missions Executive. Keep it coming, guys. We’re on a roll.”
“Why did you recruit us?”
“Is this connected with Colonel Lantosh’s arrest back on Irisur?”
“Why did Colonel Malix send us to get you?”
“And was he right to do so?”
Fitz’s smile left him, and he looked pensive for a moment. “My ship, my crew, and my wife are all under threat. That’s nothing new, but usually I know why and whom to charm to get us off the hook, and whom to shoot if it comes to that. This time”– he shrugged – “I’m still piecing it together. And it’s not coming clear fast enough.”
Sybutu nodded as if the universe had suddenly made sense. “This exercise at the captain’s table is about us helping you to piece your shit together.”
Zavage almost choked on his beer. For a moment, cracks appeared in Fitz’s mental discipline and Zavage sensed the raging guilt boiling within. Then the crack was repaired and his smile back on his face.
“Partially,” said Fitz. “These are unsettling times. We need to work together.”
“You mean as Chimera Company?”
“So it would seem.”
“You don’t seem happy about the prospect.”
“I’m captain of a free trader. Izza and I… We’re like the king and queen of a tiny kingdom of illicit adventure. I like this life. I fought in wars and I’ve saved the Federation. I’ve earned my long early retirement.” He glared at Sybutu. “So forgive me if I’m a little pissed at you and Cisco Malix for dragging me out of it.”
Bronze chose that moment to make a show of bringing out his best clay pipe and activating its bulb. Everyone was watching as he took his first draw, and Zavage realized the human had effortlessly sucked a big chunk of the tension out of the cabin.
“My guess,” said Bronze between puffs. “The Federation is a large interstellar civilization. There are 267 full planetary members who are responsible for 1,317 dependencies. That makes for a lot of moving parts rubbing together. That generates heat. Friction. Sometimes gears jam together and then release violently. It’s inevitable, but there’s been a lot of tension in recent years and it’s all coming unstuck simultaneously. Some of this, at least, is by design. I suspect it all is. Someone is grabbing the Federation by the scruff of its neck and giving a damned good shake.”
Fitz laughed. And then bit his lip. “Nuysp said something similar, that Far Reach needed a good kick to get things moving again. He said he needed to be turfed out to make way for new blood when the change came, but neither of us expected him to be murdered later the same day.”
The captain choked on the memory. The others looked on in respectful silence as he appeared to come to a decision on what to say next.
“I used to be in Legion Naval Intelligence,” he said. “The Firm, as we call it. I soon discovered that a faction within the Firm had reached out beyond our organization to like-minded patriots in the world of politics, industry, and the Militia. They felt – we felt – the Federation was on a downward spin it could never pull out of. Apinya Lantosh recruited my best friend, Cisco Malix, then Cisco recruited me.”
“Does your group have a name?” asked Bronze.
Fitz laughed. “Operation Redeal. I know… hardly an impenetrable code for a plan to give the Federation a new start. It was a contingency. None of us expected to implement it, and we talked about it as a joke, but deep down we were serious. If things got really bad, we knew we’d have to act.”
Sybutu growled. “You mean you planned a coup.”
Fitz sucked in a breath. “I prefer to say that we would demand a redeal. Sounds less ugly, don’t you think?” His flippancy faded, and he added quietly, “Yes, we dreamed up a coup.”
It was only as he uttered those words of treachery that shock sparked in Sybutu and Bronze’s minds.
They were too stunned to speak.
“Operation Redeal was never about seizing power for its own sake. I told myself it was just extreme scenario planning. Wargaming ways to establish strong institutions that would serve the people rather than their own self-interest. To get ourselves back to a galaxy where public service is seen as honorable, not a sign of moral depravation.”
“We serve the people,” snapped Sybutu.
“I know,” Fitz replied. “I was Legion too, remember? Despite its many failings, most in the Legion still carry themselves with honor and well-deserved pride in their service. Oh, I’m sure you think of yourselves as the good guys. That the answer is for the Legion to take over and burn the rot out of the Federation, and let it regrow under your protection.”
“Doesn’t sound bad to me,” said Sybutu.
“But the Legion would never relinquish control,” sighed Bronze. “That was the point of the Militia – to be our counterbalance. The Legion is set up to win wars against foreign powers, not to rule peaceful planets. Over the years its benign tyranny would shed its decency and it would become a military dictatorship. Never forget, it’s done so before.”
Sybutu smashed a fist into the table. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. We’re legionaries.”
“I was SpecMish,” said Bronze. “I’ve seen what laws the Legion is prepared to ignore to silence its enemies.”
“How does K
anha Wei fit in?” said Zavage hurriedly, trying to head off the fight between Sybutu and Bronze before it turned physical.
“She claims to be a part of the Firm and hints that she’s in on Redeal. Her claims are plausible.”
“Enough with the maybes,” said Bronze. “Give me your working assumption.”
“Every conspiracy, rebellion, and deep ops team is activating simultaneously. I can only guess why, but I’m certain that something significant is really happening. I think we’ll discover that most or all of these secret groups are coalescing around two cores. We are aligned with Operation Redeal, and the people wanting to capture and kill us in a manner that gives them best advantage, is centered around Department 9 within SpecMish.”
He looked disapprovingly at Bronze puffing on his clay pipe, filling his cabin with aromas of sweet and spicy synth-bacc.
“Khallini had deep access within the Legion,” said Bronze.
“Yes, and with the Panhandler rebels too,” Fitz responded. “I can’t figure him out. He seems to be playing every side at the same time.”
“Which makes sense to me,” said Sybutu. “Legion First General Clarke was convicted of siding with a foreign power. Lord Khallini could be the same. Provoking civil war to ready the Federation for invasion.”
Fitz remained silent. “You don’t agree, do you?” Bronze prompted.
“No,” Fitz admitted. “Something about him doesn’t fit. For a start, Khallini seems intent on maximum outrage with minimum military damage. Here’s an idea – wild, I know – but you asked for my working assumption and this is it. Khallini’s aim is not to destroy the Federation, but to give it the shaking Nuysp talked of. Hateful though it is to be falling foul of this personally, I think from Khallini’s perspective, this unrest is like an inoculation with a live virus. One that will leave the body of the Federation stronger, more resilient to what is about to come.”
Chimera Company Season 2 - Deep Cover Page 17
