by Frank Carey
"Yes, ma'am." They replied.
"What about you, Hamish?"
He pulled a double-barreled pump shotgun from behind the counter and racked in a pair of shells. "Ready when you are, Captain."
"Then lead the way," she replied. She watched closely as he walked to a stairway leading to the basement of the building, but caught herself. "Murph, remind me to get checked over when we get back to the ship," she said silently so that only he could hear her.
"By a doctor," the AI asked innocently, "or by Hammish?"
"Murph!"
CHAPTER THREE
Lucien watched the crowds move past the conveyance as he and his team made their way through the DMZ to the meet location. He was amazed at the number of off-worlders they passed, including many from the League itself. Beyond the crowd were merchant stalls selling goods from both local and off-world suppliers.
"Remind you of your sordid past?" his wife, Elf Marine Expeditionary Force General Marta McMurphy, retired, asked, referring to his previous life as a smuggler.
"Yeah, kinda. There are parts of the Smuggler's Cove asteroid that look just like this, except for the sky and sun, of course. I must be out of touch."
"Why?"
"Because I never heard of this planet before being assigned to this mission. I thought I knew every market in the League, or near it. Damn, those are butterfly skin jackets..."
Marta put her hand on his knee. "Don't get your tail in a twist. When we're through with the meeting, I promise we'll get you one."
He smiled at her. "Thanks."
"I'm there for you, Babe. Now, why am I here? I should be back at the ship monitoring Stryker Team One."
"General Williamson is taking care of that. I need you here to show these people that different species can and do get along."
"We do?"
He shook his head. "Have you always been this difficult?"
She thought for a moment. "We got married when we were nineteen, right?"
"Yes."
"Then you know the answer."
As an elf who believed in total monogamy, he smiled. "Yeah, I guess I do."
The convoy ahead of them came to a stop in front of a bar which had seen better days. Its neon sign was made just that much more incomprehensible by the several missing segments. Standing outside the door were two large Degrebians wearing dusters and leather fedora's.
"They're packing heat, Husband," Marta said as she pulled one of her custom-made blasters from a back-mounted holster.
"Darling, we'll be fine." Lucien said
"And you know this how?"
He glanced through the conveyance's armored glass skylight at the rooftop across the street from the meeting place. Marta saw three lasers blink momentarily. "Snipers?"
"Telepresence Minotaurs with small aperture sniper blasters. The operators are in that delivery truck across the street."
"EMEF?"
"Members of Team Six. I think you helped train them." He stepped out of the vehicle, then came around and opened her door while the other members of his team exited their vehicles. "Care to join me, General?"
She put away her gun before stepping out onto the street. "We're being watched."
"The Degrebians have their own snipers. Think of it as establishing trust."
"You do this for a living?"
"Trust me, it beats the hell out of smuggling." He took her hand and walked her up to the front of the building where the two guards held the door open while tipping their hats to the ladies.
"I thought that was an Earth thing," she whispered as they walked inside.
"Actually, it’s pretty much universal. It's thought to be a carryover from the Logash when they seeded this part of the galaxy," he replied.
They entered a room where several Degrebians were having what looked like a cocktail party. The Sergeant at Arms announced, "Ambassador Irithyl of the League of Planetary Systems, his wife, Elf Marine Expeditionary Force General Marta McMurphy, retired, and their entourage."
"You have got to be kidding me," Marta said as they passed by their announcer.
"When on Degreb..." Lucien reminded her.
"Ambassador Irithyl! General McMurphy! It is an honor to meet you," A portly gentlemen--quriss by his hair--said as he walked over and bowed. "I am Maalof of the quriss."
"And I am Stavrot of the lingle," a woman with hair on the opposite side of her head announced as she joined them. "We understand that you would like to talk about a problem you have with League material being smuggled into the DMZ? Please, let our wait-staff get you and your people some food and drink..."
Marta had enough. "Plark this crap," Marta said as she handed a datapad to Stavrot. On it was a video of what had transpired on Q'Tec including the death of Colonel Ventana. "Let me get you up to speed. That gentleman shooting a citizen of the League is one of your citizens. Those things around him are genetically engineered life forms created using techniques and materials stolen from the League. Now watch..." The group disappeared into thin air. "They were transported to a waiting ship using technology stolen from one of our founding species," she held up her hand so that Stavrot could see the paper-thin gap between index finger and thumb, "that is this close to coming here and opening up a can of whupass. Now, you may be asking yourselves why you should care about this? Well, it seems those gelfs and everything else aboard that ship is now sitting in a building inside the demilitarized zone. Our guess is someone is about to mount a coup. Your problem is that we don't know who's swinging the stick and who's head is going to be caved in, if you catch my drift."
Every Degrebian in the room hurried over to look at the images. They all gasped when the image of the Degrebian shooting Colonel Ventana appeared. "This is impossible!" Stavrot whispered.
"Why? Don't you people shoot one another?" Marta asked.
"Marta!" Lucien said sternly. "Sir, why is this picture impossible?"
"The shooter is Tregor Skol, an arms merchant who sells weapons to anyone with money to spend. He was responsible for the heinous death of a group of religious leaders about a year ago. In a rare show of unity, quriss and lingle security teams stormed his lair and captured most of his people. Tregor died in the Melee, but his death was known to only a handful of operatives. We had hoped to find more cells in his network."
"Did you tell our operative?"
"You mean Hamish Alduin? No, he was never made privy to the intel. Perhaps we should have told him."
"You think?" Marta said. "Where's the body?"
"What body?"
Marta looked to the heavens for guidance. "Tregor Skol's body."
"His ashes were scattered to the four winds as was fitting for a scoundrel such as he. We did perform a scan of his remains to confirm his identity."
"Can I see the scan results?" Marta asked.
Maalof waved over an aide and told her to bring him the Degrebian version of a datapad. She returned moments later with the device and handed it to him. He tapped it a few times before handing it to Marta. She took the Degrebian pad and tied it into her own. Her datapad immediately began to flash red.
"What does that mean?" Stavrot asked.
"It means that the body you scanned was a super clone. A brain-wiped duplicate of Tregor Skol, one equipped with an advanced, organic telepresence transceiver. Your scans of the body picked up trace elements that can only be found in the TP unit. We had the same problem with Colonel Ventana. It seems both people faked their deaths."
Both Maalof and Stavrot looked shocked, then angry. "To what end?"
"Perhaps to stop anyone from looking at him," Lucien suggested. Being thought dead allows him to hide in plain sight. Forgive me for asking, but is either side--quriss or lingle--looking at staging a coup against the other?"
The two representatives looked at each other. "No," they replied in unison. "We've had that capability for the last two hundred years. No, the DMZ has given us a way of not only ignoring the mutual hatred, but actually trading with one another.
It also gives us access to the League," Maalof explained. He pointed to a group of people talking over in a corner. "Those people are the heads of both factions, what you would call their kings and queens. They come to these functions to ensure the unspoken truce continues as it has for centuries.
"One side destroying the other would serve neither side," Stavrot continued. "Vendetta is a way of life here on Degreb. What we have created is a stable environment where the old traditions are maintained and controlled. There have been excursions from the norm, but those have been dealt with. There is no reason for Tregor Skol to enter into a venture where one side would take control. He profits too well from the status quo."
"Have you heard from your team?" Maalof asked.
"No, not since they left the ship. They are supposed to rendezvous with Hamish Alduin, then head into the building where DCI Adon is being held."
Stavrot nodded. "We have briefed both our governments on the situation. They have troops standing by outside the DMZ. Say the word and they will go in and secure the building."
"Then I guess all we can do is wait," Lucien said.
"I hate waiting," Marta replied.
CHAPTER FOUR
Hamish led them down into the basement, then into a back room. After turning on the single incandescent lamp hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room, he walked over to the back wall and pushed against the shelving unit there. The unit slid aside to reveal a large, heavy, steel door with a hand-wheel mounted at its center. Above the wheel was a keypad. Hamish typed in a code which caused the door to make a loud clunking sound. Satisfied, Hamish grabbed the wheel and spun it clockwise until it came to an abrupt stop. He then held on to the wheel and pulled it.
Nothing happened.
"Allow me," Kalana said.
Hamish bowed and stepped aside. "By all means. Just try not to tear the wheel off. I'm not sure I could get a repair guy in here at this hour."
She gave him the "Really?" look then raised her hand and formed a scanner. "Looks clear on the other side. Weapons up," she said quietly. In an instant, Trent and Mersa had their rifles up and activated while Nana and Marcus had gone to stryker mode with their wrist blasters activated and pointed at the door. She returned her hands to normal, then grabbed the wheel with both hands before spinning it. The door complained with screeches made only worse by her tugging on the wheel. Slowly, it opened to reveal a dimly lit corridor bereft of people.
She signaled her team to enter with Nana and Mersa taking point while Trent and Marcus brought up the rear. "Hamish, which way?"
"Straight ahead 50 yards, then make a left. Twenty yards further and we will enter the market area. On the other side is a corridor leading to the other building."
"Market? You didn't mention a market."
"Hey, people have to eat and live. I suggest you enter it in organic form. I'm not sure how the others will react to a pair of robot dragons. No offense."
"None taken," Nana said while her eye sensors pulsed red.
"What does that mean when her eyes do that," he asked Kalana.
"It means she's irritated. Let's get going."
Shortly, they found themselves in an open area created by chiseling out the living rock around several tunnels. Overhead, large stanchions held the roof up while around them, people went about their day to day business. Having returned to organic form, Nana and Marcus watched the crowd around them with hidden scanners while Trent and Mersa did the same with their trained eyes. "Looks clear, ma'am," Trent whispered.
"I'm picking up numerous weapons signatures," Marcus said.
"Ranging from slug throwers up to advanced pulse blaster weapons," Nana finished for him.
"Do you two always finish each other's sentences?"
"Yes," they replied in unison.
"Are they twins?" he asked Kalana.
"No," the three of them said.
"Great. This way," he said as he headed toward the far wall. Just as they reached the halfway mark, Marcus signaled a halt. "Trouble, ma'am."
"Specify," Kalana said as she materialized a blaster.
"Weapons are activating all around us," Nana said as she and Marcus went to stryker mode.
"Defensive ring," Mersa said as she and Trent brought up their weapons while setting them to heavy stun. The four of them formed a ring around Hamish and Kalana. Instantly, weapons of every size and type appeared around them and pointed in their direction.
"Hamish, what the hell is going on?"
"We need your help," he said as he stepped out of the defensive ring and joined the crowd. "Actually, Doctor, we need your help."
"Look, I have no idea what the hell is going on, but lives are at stake here..."
"One life is at stake here, and you are going to save it, Doctor Grenor." Hamish replied. "Now, put down your weapons, and we'll do the same. This won't take long."
Kalana fought the urge to go stryker and fight their way out. She scanned the crowd and saw that everyone around them was scared." Stand easy, team. Weapons down."
"Ma'am?" Trent asked loudly.
"Weapons down!" she barked.
Reluctantly, he and Mersa lowered their rifles and deactivated them while Nana and Marcus returned to organic form.
"Explain," Kalana ordered Hamish.
"Follow me. You have my word; no harm will come to you."
He led them across the market to a tunnel. After a short walk, he stopped in front of a door marked "Dispensary."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out two surgical masks. He donned one, then handed the other to her. "Just to be safe. We're not sure what we're dealing with."
"Everyone stay here. Try to make friends with our hosts." She donned the mask and followed Hamish inside.
Mersa flapped her wings. "I don't like this," she said. Meanwhile, a young girl walked up to Nana and raised her arms, the universal signal for "Pick me up."
Intrigued, the gelf reached down and picked the young one off the floor and held her. "I don't know, Sarge, I kinda like it."
###
Hamish led Kalana into a room with a single bed. Laying in the bed was a young girl. Her breathing was labored while she was covered in sweat. Kalana formed a pair of protective gloves on her hands, then walked over and took the child’s pulse with one hand while scanning her with the other. "What happened?"
"She was topside--the kids get regular exposure to the outside--when she picked up something in one of the stalls. She collapsed, so we brought her here."
"You said stall. Did you ask the merchant about what she picked up?" she asked while she examined the girl.
"He said a scavenger brought it in. Neither he, nor the scavenger was affected."
Kalana noticed something amiss. "She has hair on both sides of her head."
"Mixed marriage. As much as they want to believe that they're different, the quriss and lingle are the same damn species. She proves it."
"Is that your scientific finding or just your opinion?" she asked as she switched her scanner to high precision.
"You're angry."
"Nooooo. I'm not angry. I'm just really, really, pissed. The fate of the League and this god forsaken planet hang in the balance, yet you decide to threaten my team..."
"To save this girl's life. I read your dossier while you were in transit. You are..."
"Was."
"Are the best trauma surgeon in the Corps. This girl is suffering some kind of trauma, so fix her."
Kalana shook her head, then stopped. "Murph, go to speaker."
"Yes, mistress," the AI answered through her earcomm's external speaker.
"Tie into my scanner. Question: I see a spurious signal similar to that of philogistan. Am I looking at a targeted bioagent?"
"Working... Yes. Running more scans... Definitely a philogistan derivative. Very targeted. In fact, it would have no effect on any known League species."
"Let me guess. Its targeted at quriss-lingle hybrids."
"Working... Yes, at
least based on this one example."
"Can you neutralize?"
"Working..." An injector appeared in her hand. "Intramuscular should do fine, mistress."
Kalana held up the injector so that Hamish could see it. "There is a tiny chance that this could kill her. I need her parents to give me permission to inject her."
"You have my permission," he said.
She looked at him, then pressed the device into the girl’s thigh. Moments later, her eyes fluttered open. "Daddy?"
Hamish hurried over and helped the little thing to sit upright. "Hey, sweetie, how are you feeling?"
"I'm OK." She looked over at Kalana. "Who is the pretty lady?"
"Dr. Kalana Grenor, this is my daughter, Anna."
Kalana took her gloves and mask off, then shook the girl's hand. "Hello, Anna. Feel better?"
She nodded. "Do you have a tail like Daddy's?"
Kalana released her unruly appendage and used it to wipe the girl's brow with a tissue. "Yep. Pointed ears, too..." She was interrupted by a knock followed by a Degrebian--the quriss/lingle thing was getting old--hurrying in. "What have you done to my patient."
"Doctor Ralt, this is Dr. Kalana Grenor of the League Space Marines. She specializes in saving little girls," Hamish said.
"Oh. Are you with the three dragons out in the hallway?"
"Dragons? Can I see?" Anna asked.
"Sure," Kalana replied. "Doctor, how about I brief you while my team visits with Anna."
"Why, yes, yes of course,"
"My friends will be here in a moment. It was good to meet you, Anna."
Anna leaned over and hugged the captain. Kalana got up, smiled at the little girl, then gave her father another kind of look before stepping outside. Moments later, three dragons and an Alue stepped into the room and introduced themselves to an awestruck little girl.
CHAPTER FIVE
Kalana and Ralt stepped outside and across the hall to an empty room. "What the hell happened in there? Who the hell are you?" Ralt demanded.
The captain explained as the look of shock spread across the doctor's face. When Kalana finished, Dr. Ralt sat down and closed her eyes. "I think someone is systematically killing off the hybrids. A number of them have died over the last several months. There's no similarity, no pattern, but I feel that something is wrong. And I'm sure it has something to do with what's going on inside that building."
