Chimera Company Season 2 - Deep Cover

by Tim C. Taylor

Sybutu sprang to his feet, tipping over his chair as he leaned over the table and pointed a finger in Fitz’s face. “Khallini murdered my friends,” he said, his words as cold as the Rho-Torkis ice plains. He swung his arm to point at the painting of the captain with his wife, two people bound together in obvious affection. “He killed the woman I loved.”

  “I’m sorry for your pain.” Fitz kept his tone and tenor respectful, but this was no apology. “Khallini’s betrayal meant the death of my dear friend, Francisco Malix. I don’t care about Khallini’s agenda. This is personal. I will avenge my friend, but it won’t be easy. The first step along that way is to unite you with what remains of Arunsen and his troopers, because that was what Malix’s ally, Yazzie, wanted to happen. Chimera Company. I can see why Malix would want to write new stories with a team like us.”

  Pipe clamped in his teeth, Bronze righted Sybutu’s seat and eased the sergeant back on. “We lost Yergin and Meatbolt to the Corruption.” He puffed up clouds of synth-bacc. “And I lost many more to this… disease, genetic weapon – whatever it is – on other worlds. Vetch’s Muryani trooper called it the Andromedan Corruption. That could mean a lot of things, and I don’t trust the hairy insects for a moment, but it could be softening up before an attack from the outer rim. For centuries, conspiracy theorists have argued that the only reason the Federation exists is because the Muryani wanted us here to soak up an attack they feared would one day come from the rim. It doesn’t matter whether we believe that. It matters that powerful people do. I think Khallini does.”

  “Yes, the Corruption,” Fitz agreed. “Whatever that actually is, I can see no connection to either Department 9 or Operation Redeal.”

  “I have another question.” Sybutu leaned back on his chair, arms crossed. “When we were holding out at the pier on Rho-Torkis, waiting for extraction, you had no reason to come back for us, and plenty to stay the hell away. Even your own robot doubted you would return.”

  “I wouldn’t pay heed to Lynx,” said Fitz. “He has trust issues.”

  “I didn’t expect you to come back for us either,” said Bronze. “Why did you?”

  “Because…” Fitz gave a sad little laugh and checked something on his wrist slate. “Because I’m a hero. Don’t like to boast about it, but it’s a thing.”

  “That’s not good enough.” Sybutu scowled. “Remember the conversation we had earlier? You won’t earn our trust by feeding us bullshit like that.”

  “Fine,” Fitz snapped back. “Call it an accounting issue with the Bank of Spiritual Karma. I’m in deep deficit. Gentlemen, don’t let my cool jacket and charm deceive you. I’ve done a lot of bad things, and not always to those like Khallini who thoroughly deserved them. So I play the selfless hero on occasion, and when I do, I like to think my spiritual account receives a healthy boost. It helps me to sleep. It also means I can build up enough credit to do something seriously wicked in the future.”

  Sybutu shook his head. “You’re not as bad as you make out, Fitz.”

  But he was…

  Suddenly, a primitive threat response kicked in, slowing down Zavage’s time perception and intensifying his other senses.

  In slow motion, Fitz was turning his head to face Zavage, wearing a grim expression. His hand had just tapped his wrist slate and was now reaching inside the sleeve of his jacket.

  Puzzled thoughts were just starting to pepper the minds of Sybutu and Bronze, but they were a long way from realizing that Fitz had suddenly transformed into a serious threat.

  The enormous hand cannon was there as ever strapped to Fitz’s thigh, but no one else was armed. The only weapon Zavage could see was the bottle in his hand, made from some kind of heavy transparent resin. A light club at best.

  They were screwed.

  “No?” Fitz said in reply to Sybutu’s question. “If I’m not a bad person, then why did I spike your drinks?”

  Zavage lunged to one side, trying to get around and behind their betrayer.

  Fitz anticipated his move. His hand whipped out and flung something at the Kurlei.

  Zavage looked down and saw the hypodermic dart over his heart pumping fluid into his body. He took another step, but it was an unsteady one. With a hollow thud, his beer bottle dropped to the deck and rolled away to join Bronze and Sybutu who were already on the floor.

  “Sorry to single you out, Mr. Zavage.” Fitz rose to his feet. “But Kurlei physiology is a little tricky.”

  Summoning his flagging strength, Zavage managed a single word. “Why?”

  “Everything I just said was true,” Fitz told Zavage as he collapsed. “Except for my involvement. The Federation needs Chimera Company, and you need to team up with Arunsen’s lot. But the Phantom’s headed away from all this. We’re nobody’s tool. Not anymore.”

  He sat Zavage back into his seat, but though the Kurlei’s body was out for the count, Zavage’s mind persisted.

  Green Fish.

  Unable to speak, he filled his mind with thoughts of the human woman he cared for so much.

  “Phantom’s going far away,” Fitz said. “I’m sorry, but your sweetheart’s not well enough to go with you. Izza will take good care of her.”

  Izza?

  As he slipped into unconsciousness, a last question interrupted his thoughts of Green Fish.

  Fitz had said Izza would care for her, and his mind held the thought the he himself would be somewhere else entirely.

  Where?

  OSO SYBUTU

  With a heaving gasp, Osu sucked in a great gulp of air and lunged sideways, his mind waking into the hazy memory of being under assault. He needed to move!

  All he achieved was to roll over and eat a mouthful of hot, fine sand.

  He got to his knees and waited a few moments while the fog drained from his head.

  “They’ve left us well equipped,” said Bronze from a short distance up the beach. The legionary was securing the flap of one of three full packs resting in the sand beside a small pile of personal weapons.

  Beach?

  Azure seas were gently breaking across golden sand pitted by recent rain. Empty beaches curved gently out of sight to either side. Behind them, woodland sloped down to the sand.

  They were alone, but Zavage was still sprawled lifeless on the beach.

  “Sleeping Beauty’s okay,” said Bronze, checking on the weapons. “He’s got a puncture wound to his chest. Knockout dart. Could be out for hours.”

  The sound of the rolling seas took on a sudden bass note.

  Which quickly grew louder.

  And was coming from the sky.

  “Get down!” Osu warned.

  His ears protested at the sonic boom that announced the arrival of an aircraft passing low enough to throw up spray and stinging clouds of sand.

  It was Phantom in a screaming flypast. No doubt with that deceitful bastard, Fitzwilliam, at the controls, the ship tossed its marooned crew a wing waggle before making for the void in a vertical ascent.

  “That fucking skragg” Osu bellowed. “If I ever get my hands…”

  He shut up and assessed their situation instead. He’d have plenty of time to curse Fitzwilliam later, but he needed to get his team to safety first.

  He joined Bronze, hefting one of the packs onto his back and slinging a blaster rifle over his shoulder.

  “You take Zavage’s gear,” he told his companion, “and I’ll take his body.”

  With the Kurlei over his shoulder, Osu jogged for the cover of the trees, waiting a short distance inside for Bronze to catch up. “Let’s put some distance from this beach,” he ordered. “We run for ten minutes and don’t hold back. Then we’ll figure our next move. Go!”

  They ran deeper into the trees, veering slightly to one side to throw off anyone observing their point of entry and trying to follow.

  Osu used his rage to fuel his limbs. But his anger came off the boil as the sound of the waves was swallowed up by the trees, quickly replaced by a thick buzz of insects, and the songs and fla
pping wings of birds. Soon, even he had to admit that it felt good to have solid ground under their feet once more.

  TAVISTOCK FITZWILLIAM

  Fitz pushed the Phantom into a perfect vertical climb, which gave him – by his considerable experience – about 25 seconds before he needed to touch the controls again.

  He seized the opportunity to put his feet up on the flight console and look nonchalant.

  “Gouda-9. Gouda-9. This is Zone-47 Control. You are not authorized for planetary airspace. Return to high orbit and await instructions.”

  “Roger that, Zone-47 Control,” Izza replied. “We were just about to land on the beach and dip our toes in the water when we realized we hadn’t received clearance first. Silly us.”

  Fitz laughed. No matter that the flight controller must have heard him. After all these years, Izza still managed to surprise him on a frequent basis.

  He looked across at his beautiful wife, and wondered what surprises were yet to come.

  Still, he’d better recycle the Gouda-9 ident codes and dream up some new fake identities.

  Izza unbuckled and bounded across the flight deck, pouncing on Fitz and kissing him mercilessly.

  The kiss went on, a messy mashing together of lips like hungry teenagers on a first date.

  That wasn’t like the old girl at all. Izza was out of sorts. The whole galaxy was. And… he had to admit that some of that was of his own making.

  With the jacks off on an enforced adventure for a little while, it gave him time to think. And plan.

  “Can’t you keep it together until we’re in jump, Lieutenant?” said Fregg.

  Izza released Fitz’s lips and regarded Justiana Fregg. And when Fregg had the balls to speak with cheek like that, Fitz hadn’t needed to turn around to know Sinofar would be there beside her, backing her up.

  “Fregg, Sinofar,” he greeted. “Nice to see you on the flight deck for a change.”

  “Captain,” they both responded guiltily. Something was up.

  “Don’t I give you enough work to keep busy?” Fitz asked them.

  “We want to know what happens next,” said Sinofar.

  What happens… Oh, no. No. No. Not here. Not now. Not like this!

  “And Catkins?” he asked them, pushing Izza away. Her flesh felt cold and uninviting. Alien.

  “Catkins and Lynx are keeping each other busy,” Sinofar replied.

  “Gouda-9, level out and maintain orbit.”

  Fitz ignored planetary control. What was happening on the flight deck was far more important.

  “Time we made an exit,” said Izza, resuming her station. “I plotted a route that would take us out of Tej Sector altogether in 14 jumps. We can start again in the Duralynsis Sector. Or… were you considering begging Nyluga-Ree to forgive us?”

  Fitz took his feet off the flight console and turned his seat to level a cool look at Sinofar and Fregg. “It’s not just about you and me, is it, my lady? Nyluga-Ree wants my crew for ten years servitude.”

  “Then we leave the sector. Maybe wait things out in cryo until whatever is coming has blown over?”

  “Let’s not be hasty,” said Fitz.

  “Gouda-9, respond! If you do not comply, your vessel will be boarded and seized.”

  “I cut a deal with Kanha Wei,” he pointed out to Izza, ignoring the irate locals.

  “But we just marooned half of Chimera Company. That was her plan, wasn’t it? To get you leading a Legion dark ops team to obey her every whim.”

  “No.” Fitz managed a weak grin. “They’re not marooned. Put in a safe place out the way while I get some answers. They will be there waiting for us when we want them back.”

  Sinofar was speaking to planetary control. Fitz was finding it impossible to focus on the big Pryxian’s words.

  “I told you,” said Izza, “either your life is with me and your crew, or we’re just deep cover for a Legion spy. Us or them. Me or her. And you just confirmed your choice as I knew you would.” Her words caught in her throat. “But… I had to give you one last chance. Oh, Tavistock. It was good while it lasted.”

  She straddled him, bringing her head close to his. She was all he could see, the rest of the universe having drifted away.

  “We weren’t just good, my love,” he whispered. “We were the best.” He swallowed hard. “Verlys? Justiana? You too?”

  “Sorry, Captain,” said Verlys Sinofar from far away. “The Lieutenant told us you’d never really left the Legion. We had to see it with our own eyes to believe it.”

  “Hey,” Fregg admonished her friend. “She’s not Lieutenant anymore, you blue twat.”

  “Eh?”

  “It’s Captain Zan Fey now,” said Izza. She peered at Fitz as he slipped away, using a cloth to wipe whatever drug it was she’d smeared over her lips to knock him unconscious.

  She said something to him, but he could no longer understand.

  His universe shrank to the pink and blue marbled eyes of the person he loved most in life.

  He panicked, in the end. Seized by a heart-wrenching pang of aching loss.

  He hoped she hadn’t seen his pain.

  For a few more instants, he kept his calm, and then the dark closed around him and swallowed him up.

  OSO SYBUTU

  “Sounds like the Phantom’s back again,” said Bronze as they rested up after their dash into the woods.

  Sybutu listened to the aerial rumble.

  It was plausible, he supposed, but his hearing wasn’t the most precise instrument, especially with his head still muzzy from the knockout drug. He looked a query at Zavage.

  The freshly woken Kurlei gave him an inscrutable alien look that involved elongating his chin to a finely chiseled point, and widening his eyes until they were the size of blaster barrels.

  “I can’t tell from the sound alone, Sergeant, but I have a hunch that Phantom hasn’t finished with us.”

  Sybutu considered his comrade through suspicious eyes. Zavage never had hunches. He’d only just woken from his drugged slumber, though. Maybe the alien was still confused.

  “We go back to the beach,” Sybutu told them as the aircraft passed overhead, hidden from sight by the thick leafy canopy.

  They retraced their route through the trees to the beach as fast as they could, the return journey being much harder. Even though Zavage now shouldered his own burden, they had all taken heavy knocks on Rho-Torkis that made their bodies howl in protest.

  What they really needed was rest.

  That wasn’t what awaited them at the beach. Nonetheless, Osu decided that what he did see was better than a week’s recuperation at a poolside Halcyon-3 resort attended by in-season Zhoogenes.

  An equipment pod had been dropped onto the beach. The lack of a crater meant it must’ve used grav braking. In fact, the sand was so undisturbed by its delivery that Osu could clearly see it sat in the exact same place he’d been left about half an hour earlier.

  Had to be the Phantom then.

  But why?

  Had they dropped more equipment? Perhaps Fitzwilliam had given them Lynx with some of the heavy weapons they’d picked up at Bresca-Brevae.

  “Looks like someone changed their mind,” said Bronze. “But who, and in what direction? Perhaps they dropped a kill droid to finish us off.”

  “Perhaps,” Osu agreed. He hadn’t considered that. What was wrong with him? Had he contracted terminal optimism?

  Dispatching Bronze up a tree to watch their rear, Osu and Zavage observed through their blaster scopes as the pod lid slid back.

  A man in a brown jacket and sunglasses sat up like a vampire waking from its coffin. He tumbled out to smash his face into the sand.

  Osu cradled a Hunndrin & Rax HC2 blaster rifle. No good against armored targets, but an accurate antipersonnel weapon. Range was 176 yards and there was the lightest of sea breezes. If the sights were accurate, all he had to do was squeeze that trigger and Fitzwilliam would never betray anyone again.

  “You said if
you ever got your hands on him…” Zavage reminded him.

  Osu spat into the sandy ground beneath the tree. “Then it’s best if I don’t lay hands on him. Yet.”

  Fitzwilliam had already pulled out a bulging pack identical to theirs. Now he lay across the pod’s lip with his belly on its edge, leaning over to fish something out.

  Osu put two blaster bolts his way. One into the side of the pod, which scorched an angry black patch into its surface. The next bolt sizzled just above Fitzwilliam’s head.

  The smuggler scrambled inside the pod, his feet waving comically in the air before drawing them down with the rest of him. He was behind hard cover, but stuck on the middle of the beach with open ground and perfect sightlines all around.

  “Let us discuss our little misunderstanding like gentlemen,” Fitzwilliam shouted.

  Osu didn’t reply.

  “What’s the plan?” Zavage asked.

  “Plan?” Osu sent another two bolts slamming into the side of the pod. “I plan to test the sights of our weapons. It’s an important task, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun doing it.”

  “One couldn’t fault you for feeling a little vexed,” said Fitzwilliam.

  Zavage sent a searing bolt into the pod that made the smuggler scream.

  “Will you cut that out?”

  “My rifle’s sights are fine, Sergeant.”

  “What’s the plan really?” said Osu. “Same as it’s always been. We follow the plan of Colonels Malix, Lantosh and Major Yazzie, as best I understand it. We reunite with Arunsen’s lot and see whether Chimera Company has a part to play in stopping the rot in this galaxy.”

  “Phantom would be helpful to have around,” said Zavage. “Fitz might have fallen out with his crew, but the bond he has with his wife… I don’t think either of them could break it, no matter how much they might want to. Zan Fey understands this. If she really wanted rid of him, she would have killed him.”

  Osu shook his head. The words sounded true, but he’d never tried to understand degenerates like these smugglers before.

  “Get over yourselves,” said Fitzwilliam. “Weapons discharges will attract attention. Let’s get under cover and thrash out our differences.”