Chimera Company - Deep Cover 5 Read online

  “You know I did.”

  “And I suppose now you want us to rescue her.”

  “Her plight is a dammed disgrace,” Lily declared. “An outrage. There’s not much we can do to change the Federation in what little time we’ve got left. We’re convicted deserters, only kept alive for a little longer so we can take someone else’s place in the meatgrinder. But we all swore oaths. The Militia and the Amilxi People. M.A.P. and all that bollocks. Well the girl in that dungeon is a citizen. And that means we swore to protect her.”

  She glanced up. Sward was looking for a chance to get a word in. Enthree was so agitated, she was throwing s-curves along her spine.

  “This could be the last thing we do,” Lily said quickly, throwing a raised eyebrow at Sward and daring him to interrupt. “Make it count. Show the Federation how people should act.”

  She took a short breath, but… she’d run out of steam. Why weren’t they arguing with her?

  Vetch picked up his cards and studied them. “You sure this girl is worth making a stand for?”

  “She is.”

  He played the five of moons. “We figured you’d get her to talk. Thought this would be your reaction too.”

  Sward tossed a card on the table, leaned back, and gave Lily a stiff Zhoogene smile. “Vetch has been hatching a plan.”

  Lily looked Vetch clear in the face. Damn that stupid beard. He’d been grinning all this time. Asshole.

  He soon lost his grin when Enthree played her card and scooped up the money on the table.

  “Nice play, Bug,” Vetch said, recalculating the value of his remaining cards after that last play.

  “Well,” Lily demanded. “What’s the plan?”

  “For tonight, we act as normal. But in the morning, we bring forward the girl’s execution.”

  Lily took a moment to realize what Vetch was saying.

  Then she parted his silly, shaggy hair and planted a kiss on the crown of his head.

  “Neat,” she said, pulling up a stool to join them at the table. “I knew you’d make a good trooper one day, Vetch Arunsen. Now stop gloating that you’ve finally popped a good idea out of your hairy head and finish the round so you can deal me in. I’ve got a feeling we won’t be playing cards again any time soon.”

  MAJOR LYSSIN

  Militia Major Lyssin heard the knock on the painted wooden door that cut through the high brick walls of his garden paradise. After a few moments’ hesitation, the visitor pushed his way inside and took a dozen hesitant steps along the outer path.

  Then he halted.

  Lyssin didn’t open his eyes, preferring to imagine the man’s shock as the warm humidity of the garden’s microclimate warmed his skin. His gaze would be piercing the concealing outer covering of blooming vines, and seeing beneath the high terraces of miniature trees. There he would discover the bubbling streams of nutrient-rich water draining along miniature stone aqueducts, the tinkling water flow already prominent in the man’s acute hearing.

  If it weren’t for its people, Eiylah-Bremah would be a lovely world. Lyssin’s hanging garden was, as far as its owner and creator cared, its greatest wonder.

  Lyssin opened his eyes and regarded his visitor with sudden curiosity. Lieutenant Deroh Ren Kay was a Zhoogene. He looked immaculate in his smart blue jacket with its silver lieutenant’s bars on the epaulettes, and the Demon Wolf Brigade insignia on the collar. Combined with the natural upright rigidity of his people, Ren Kay looked so effortlessly martial in his bearing that Lyssin took great pleasure in showing off the junior officer at public functions and private meetings. Yes, Ren Kay was a perfect demonstration of what a fine unit Lyssin commanded.

  Zhoogenes were a photosynthesizing race; a concept that had always fascinated Lyssin. Did that mean Ren Kay appreciated these gardens at a deeper level than any human could hope to?

  Or perhaps the artificial herbal scent carried by the spray mist, and the buzz of insects engineered to be stingless struck false notes with him.

  The advancing lieutenant ducked beneath a vine rope stretched from one wall to the other. It was the main highway of battle between rival nests of leaf cutter insects.

  He came to attention and saluted. “An honor to be here, Major.”

  Lyssin waved the salute away. “We’re off duty now, Deroh. And if it’s an honor, it’s one you’ve earned. I’ve had my eye on you for a while, and I think it’s time for you to move on to more specialized tasks.”

  The smile left Lyssin’s face. Ren Kay remained at attention, and Lyssin decided that within the walls of his prized garden, the Zhoogene’s martial look did not please him.

  He had a sudden fantasy of stripping the man down to his bare green skin, cutting out his vocal cords, and feeding him drugs to keep his hydraulic bands tight, which would lock him rigid in the prison of his own body.

  “Sir?”

  He could plant him against the east column, with climbers running up the lieutenant’s flanks and arms to bloom into flower over his head. His chest and back would remain bare so that he could photosynthesize, thereby keeping himself alive. Lyssin bore no particular malice against his subordinate, but he’d always been fascinated by rumors of the curious things you could do to living Zhoogene flesh. And now the idea had been planted…

  Ren Kay gave a polite cough.

  “Forgive me.” Lyssin waved to the vacant force chair beside his own. “It suddenly struck me that as a Zhoogene, you might be able to help me enjoy my garden in ways I had never previously conceived. But… that’s not why I invited you here this fine summer’s evening.”

  Ren Kay looked uncertainly at the force chair.

  “I know. I know!” said Lyssin. “My apologies. Here I am in my silly human head thinking I have created a natural paradise, when I’m reclining against a ladder of force bands. You must think me ridiculous.”

  “Not at all.” Golden eyes like fresh corn husks regarded him coolly. “It is an honor and a privilege to be invited to your home, Major.”

  “Yes. Yes, it is, Deroh.” Lyssin beamed with delight as his visitor settled into the force chair and relaxed his body.

  But always, he thought to himself, a visit here brings obligation. Lyssin grinned. Sometimes pleasure too. My pleasure, at any rate.

  He indicated the marble-topped occasional table that stood between them. “Help yourself, my good man.”

  Ren Kay looked uneasily at the box of cigars and the bottles and glasses.

  Good, good… You’re being offered a step up in society. Don’t take it for granted, because it can be removed just as easily.

  The lieutenant poured himself a glass of Bin-37 Melburnians brandy from Halcyon-3. After a long sip of the liquor that cost more than his annual salary, Ren Kay began to relax.

  “You’re here so we can get to know each other a little better,” Lyssin told him. “But first, I’m afraid I have a little matter of business. Those penal troopers I gave you last month… how are you finding them?”

  “Less trouble than I had expected, sir. I think they just want to keep their heads down.”

  “I bet they do.” Lyssin laughed. “The question is, are you letting them do so?”

  Ren Kay licked his lips while he selected his words. “I am aware that these troopers are to be considered particularly expendable.”

  “Well-chosen words, Deroh, but there’s no need to be so circumspect here.” He took a cigar from the box and used it to indicate the extent of his hanging gardens. “We’re so secure, we may as well be in our own private world.” He snipped the end off the cigar.

  “I want those expendables expended, and soon. But carefully. The one who was such a disgrace to the officer corps still has her supporters, and strangely enough, one of them might be the sector marshal herself.”

  “Sir? But they were sent here from JSHC as convicted deserters. Surely the marshal knows this?”

  Lyssin ripped off the heating cap and watched the magic as the roll of finest synth-bacc glowed, releasing its r
iches. “The wealth of this star system derives from its sources of exotic materials. But here on the planet of Eiylah-Bremah itself, the greatest export market is in ritual humiliation. I think it amused the marshal to have your deserters sent here rather than execute them immediately. Where better to demonstrate the fate of those who defy their superiors, before eventually contributing towards our military campaign’s unfortunate attrition statistics?”

  “I understand,” said Ren Kay. “We don’t want to be seen to have deliberately thwarted the sector marshal’s… pleasure.”

  “Quite so.” Lyssin puffed his cigar into life. “How have you managed to balance our deserters’ lives on an appropriate knife edge?”

  “They work most of their days in the prisons, working the filthiest dungeons. They also provide prisoner escort for lunchtime executions. I dress them in smart uniforms kept clean for public duty, and they wear Militia berets sporting In’Nalla’s red cockade to show their alliance with the dictator.”

  “What brave troopers they must be to proudly wear what the rebels regard as symbols of oppression. It’s almost as if they were daring disgruntled citizens to strike at them.”

  “Indeed, sir. And acting as lightning rods for dissent is a vital task, because it is so difficult to draw out the rebels who have infiltrated the city. I have rooftop sharpshooters posted around Execution Square and the approach roads. If anyone were to fire upon the escort troopers, my snipers will take them out. With any lesser signs of defiance, the police will make arrests.”

  “Do the crowds know of your trap?”

  “I’m sure they do, sir. It is good to let the citizens know how powerless they are. Nonetheless, hotheads will inevitably test the system before long, and then my expendable penal troopers will start to be expended.”

  “An admirable approach, Deroh. However, weapons fire into a crowd of civilians can cause panic and confusion. In such moments of chaos, who can say for sure where the shots came from, or even their intended targets? Tomorrow lunchtime, I would like to hear of an incident in Execution Square. A heinous assault on authority by the rebels that, regrettably, results in the deaths of five brave troopers, newly arrived to our planet.”

  Ren Kay open his mouth in horror.

  Lyssin, too, began to feel regret. One of the penal troopers he wanted skragged was another Zhoogene. The others needed to die tomorrow, but if there was a way to abduct the trooper who was half plant, he could help Lyssin conduct an interesting experiment over by the garden’s east column.

  He sucked in a sharp breath. Suggesting that notion to Ren Kay would be a little too ambitious. Should have thought it through properly before inviting a Zhoogene to be his assassin.

  “I’m not sure, sir.” Ren Kay didn’t look unsure. He looked like a Zhoogene with his mind made up, and they could be such stubborn bastards. “To use deserters as bait and plasma fodder is one thing, but to order my troopers to outright murder them…”

  He caught Lyssin’s raised eyebrow and pivoted his choice of words. “I’m just not sure I can convince them of the legitimacy of that order.”

  “Then permit me give you a good reason.” Lyssin paused to roll a draw of smoke around his mouth. “Better still, let me give you twenty thousand good reasons.”

  “Twenty thou?” Ren Kay’s head growth trembled. “Bylzak! Somebody sure hates those deserters.”

  “That’s none of our business, Deroh.” Lyssin watched the young Zhoogene making the calculations in his head. How much of the twenty thousand credits would he have to pay his troopers to become murderers? And how much would that leave for himself?

  And… there you go, Deroh. Lyssin could see the moment, written plain as day across the lieutenant’s face, when he suddenly wondered how much money was changing hands here. If he was being bribed twenty thou, how much was his superior being paid? And how much more could he wring out of this?

  Lyssin shrugged and offered the first of a long list of potential sweeteners. “You know, Deroh, you remind me of myself when I was an ambitious young lieutenant. I was in such a hurry for promotion that I developed an antipathy toward a certain Lieutenant Dorothy Peng. She was a fine officer, but she had better connections than me, and a longer length of service. I felt certain I would always be in her shadow throughout my career. Forever second in line for promotion.” He topped up Ren Kay’s brandy. “It would only be natural for you to feel the same about Lieutenant Atiff. Especially with an opening for senior lieutenant coming up soon.”

  “Not at all, sir. Atiff is a good officer and would make an excellent senior lieutenant.”

  “Well said, Deroh. Indeed, Atiff would also make a good choice for the asteroid defense stations, and their CO has been making such an irritating clamor for reinforcements recently, that it would seem churlish not to send her someone. Funny Atiff should come up in our little chat, because I’m conducting his annual review next month.” He paused for effect. “Anyway, have you come to a decision about our little matter?”

  “I have sir. My troopers will get the job done. You can trust me.”

  A victory smile slid over Lyssin’s face. “I know I can, my boy.” He eased deeper into his force chair, the sensors understanding his intent and reclining its back. You belong to me now, Deroh.

  Lyssin felt his gaze drawn toward the east column and licked the sweet taste of brandy off his lips. One way or another.

  LILY HJON

  “You’re a disgrace!” shouted a man from the balcony bar.

  “Cover your head,” yelled a woman sitting at the same table, followed by a confusing jumble of jeers, threats, and cries of “Shame!”.

  The bar was doing a brisk business this lunchtime, as were the stallholders of Restitution Street who lined the broad, tree-studded sidewalk – a miniature plaza on the north side of the road. They sold pastries, holo hits, and the local specialty of spiced cider punch. The stalls formed a kind of proxy security cordon to keep the crowds away from the road where the Militia troopers escorted the condemned to her death.

  Execution Square – where the real crowds were already baying their excitement – was still two hundred yards away, and the noise was building by the second.

  “Your entertainment hasn’t even begun,” Lily murmured as she marched. She looked out into the crowd beyond the stalls. “Just wait till you see what we’ve got in store, skraggs.”

  Vetch thought she had lived a life of cloistered privilege before being busted to the ranks, but she let the cuddly Viking believe a lot of shit that wasn’t true. She’d seen scum baying for blood on scores of worlds, but this… this was different.

  These weren’t cutthroat gang members who were sipping fine wine on the balcony seats that cost twice the normal price during ‘execution hour’.

  And the people below on the sidewalk weren’t the impoverished lower classes being fed bread and circus as the old Earth expression said.

  No, this bloodthirsty bunch of chod-skraggers wore the half-brimmed hats that were the latest fashion in the capital city of Kaylingen. Their clothes were freshly laundered, and their wrist slates the latest models. They had plenty of credits to enjoy the street wares hawked at inflated prices.

  They were the capital’s lunchtime office workers. Kaylingen University lecturers. Tourists.

  Except for one person. There, at a cider stall, was the young human woman Lily had been searching for, seemingly weighing up her choice of lunchtime drink.

  Damn! Vetch had been right, after all. The thief had held up her side of the bargain.

  The briefest of glances passed between the two women.

  Lily faced forward and tried to catch Vetch’s attention.

  He was marching at the front alongside Sward, both of them looking chunky due to the civilian clothes stuffed under their jackets. The beret wasn’t standard Militia wear, but local cultural norms insisted that uncovered heads were immodest for humanoids of all descriptions.

  Behind them shuffled the young Zhoogene, Carnolin Indoh. Bare
foot, head growth on full display, and wearing garments that looked more befitting a marathon runner than a convicted criminal, she walked with wrists crossed in front of her.

  They weren’t bound, though. Nor were her ankles shackled as was the usual practice. Not for Carnolin. Not today. That would have proved awkward in a few minutes.

  Enthree and Darant marched behind her, with Lily taking up the rear.

  “Vetch,” she said. “Vetch!”

  He fingered his polished war hammer. Tense. Alert. But completely oblivious to her.

  Typical of the deaf ape.

  “Sward,” she tried, raising her voice a little. “Tell the big lump next to you that our distraction is here.”

  The big sniper tapped Vetch on the shoulder and passed on the message. Thank goodness for the wonders of Zhoogene hearing.

  Unfortunately, the same sensitive ears meant the girl, Carnolin, heard too. First, she tensed in that jerky way of her kind, and then she trembled like green shoots in a breeze.

  Lily found herself trembling as well.

  Am I scared?

  Over in Execution Square, a drumbeat started up.

  Don’t be stupid.

  She’d never considered herself brave, and if she appeared fearless it was only because she’d been cruising on borrowed time for so long that each second was an unexpected bonus.

  Vetch halted.

  The Restitution Street crowd cheered, mistaking the unexpected stop, thinking the condemned was being presented to them for their pleasure.

  Poor Carnolin shook like a leaf in the howls of derision hurled at her by the degenerate assholes of this world.

  The weird thing was, Lily shook with her.

  These arse-skraggs terrifying this poor girl, she said to herself. Are they so very different from anywhere else in the Federation?

  Many of the condemned who were marched most lunchtimes to Execution Square had been set up. The details changed from execution to execution, but the moral example of the Churn never wavered. Facts didn’t matter; only the story. And the story chosen for Carnolin was of a rich fool, smug in her entitlement, who had to be torn down and made to confess her sins. Publicly. Only then would society be at peace with itself.