Star Brigade: Odysseys - An Anthology (13 page)

But that was eight years ago. Today, Sam sucked down more of her drink and shrugged. “Nah!”

The two humans burst out laughing, breaking the tension. They clinked their glasses with big smiles in a toast to surviving. Sam loved seeing Liliana not so uptight and timid. While she wasn’t drunk, her growing ease in demeanor and posture became obvious.

And of course, just as she was becoming more fun and relaxed, Liliana called it a night. “Got some lab work to get through,” she countered despite Sam’s protests, rising from her bar stool. “More research on the overproduction of xenotrophin.”

“Ah,” Sam nodded, needing no further explanation. Knowing the personal obligation behind Lily’s research, how could she keep the doctor away from that?

“But I can put it off till tomorrow,” Lily added hesitantly, “if you need me to stick around.”

Don’t go
.
Stay a little longer
, Sam wanted to say. For some reason the thought of being left to her own devices tonight chilled her from head to heel. “Please,” she instead waved Liliana off lightheartedly. “Go be brilliant.”

“Luminal!” The doctor’s relief was palpable. “We’ll
both
get sloshed up next time, mamita.”

Sam leaned away in mock distaste. “So you think this is gonna become ‘our thing’ now, Ensign?”

Liliana froze. “I…no.” Suddenly she was alarmed and stammering. “That’s not…I wasn’t—”

Sam let out a loud and bawdy laugh. “Christ on a
comet
, you’re so easy it’s not even a challenge! Of course there’ll be a next time!”

The doctor slapped her hard on the arm. “
Pundeja,
” she hissed, smiling again. “Thanks for the drinks…and the talk.” The doctor leaned in, wrapping her slim arms around Sam. “Just what I needed.”

“Anytime, sweets,” Sam returned the embrace with an extra squeeze. “Love ya from the bottom of my bottom.”

When Liliana pulled away, Sam found her no longer smiling. The doctor’s face was lined with concern. “We have to find Maelstrom, Samantha,” she stated in a quiet, urgent tone only Sam could hear. “We
have
to stop him.”

Sam nodded, rubbing Liliana’s back like a doting parent. “I know. And when we find him, we
kill
him.” Liliana’s features hardened, but Sam didn’t care how coldblooded that sounded. Maelstrom signed his death warrant the moment he’d hurt her Star Brigade family.

“Good,” the doctor decided, a flat and final response.

Sam watched her go with raised eyebrows, surprised and a little concerned by the glint of satisfaction in the doctor’s eyes.

A few macroms after Liliana left, Sam motioned Solrao over again to order herself a nice big bottle filled with what looked like liquid gold. But to Sam, a bottle of hellburner trumped liquid gold.

More customers arrived, thankfully drawing Solrao away again. Sam turned around on her stool to face away from the bar counter, slumping back against it. She downed a lengthy swallow from her bottle. The thick liquor tasted bitter, salty, electric and honeyed all at once. She winced and immediately took another long pull. Nice.

Today had almost been another Beridaas, with Sam rendered just as powerless to save her teammates. CT-1 with all those young Brigadiers—even Habraum’s pet Cybernarr—had all nearly been killed by Maelstrom.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, the thoughts and fears and disappointments began to pile up like stones weighing on her chest.

Any hope Sam had of helping the Korvenites in the internment camps, exposing their deplorable living conditions—
definitely
killed by Maelstrom.

Hunting Maelstrom down while the trail was hot, ending him before he broke into another internment camp or killed more innocents—stupidly stalled by Union Command.

Sam bristled and tossed the bottle back again, draining more of it. All that tasted bitterer in her mouth than this hellburner. And the welcome haze of drunkenness wasn’t kicking in fast enough. On days like this, when life clobbered over and over a being with gale force, Sam really hated having such a high fucking alcohol tolerance.

Her first instinct was going to Habraum, her rock…her
harbor
. After what happened on Alorum, just the thought of being around him again made her insides feel so fluttery, yet ache so deeply, the discomfort was near acute. A few orvs ago in Habraum’s office when they spoke briefly, that same sensation had nearly overwhelmed her.

A grin tugged at Sam’s lips. After all these years, those feelings just wouldn’t die. A talk with her favorite Cerc would make Sam feel safe again and expel her worries.

Her smile widened, showing teeth. Habraum should be in his quarters now, maybe eating dinner…

…with Jeremy. Sam’s smile curdled. The reminder was a hard punch to the gut.

No, I can’t intrude tonight.
It would be selfish, especially given the Cerc’s struggles to balance Star Brigade with being a good dad to Jerm.
She flinched away from the sharp disappointment and sighed, taking another pull of liquor.

She studied the bottle in her right hand, resting it on her right thigh.
Jesus, it’s empty already?

Then Sam noticed the liquor finally beginning to work its sweet magic, making her senses go tipsy and muddying up her thoughts.
Won’t be enough,
she already knew.

Sam dared a glance at Solrao. The lanky Ibrisian stood all the way at the other end of the bar, leaning forward to chat up two swarthy and strapping crimsonborn. By their outfits the two looked like freighter pilots.
Out of the question,
Sam decided with a quick head shake, dismissing all three options. Both Cercs looked too much like Braum.
And Rae’s gotten too clingy anyway.

Solrao caught Sam’s lingering gaze, and with a smirk the Ibrisian nodded her head toward someone in the increasingly crowded bar.

Sam turned away and surveyed the area that Solrao just indicated and Liliana had earlier so reductively dismissed.

The crowd was rather lacking in potential, until her gaze landed on a carroty-complexioned Nnaxan. He sat alone three tables to Sam’s left, minding his own business, while nursing what looked like a BBT.

Sam gave him a quick, but thorough, onceover. Private military contractor pilot by the uniform. Tall and well-made in physique, a handsomely chiseled face for a Nnaxan, with a perfectly overarched brow, and a quartet of thick, fleshy craniowhisks spilling down his shoulders—each which Sam had a sudden desire to lick from root to tip.

And four hands
, Sam gloated, her lips parting slightly.
Hope he knows what to do with them all.
She set her empty bottle on the bar counter with a
clunk
, and then lurched up from her stool with as much sensual grace as she could muster.

…an orv later they were on a beaten-up bed inside his small frigate ship, entwined under the dim red glow of halolights.  Sam was on top and unclothed, a low and steadily rising moan in her throat, riding the Nnaxan ferociously.

His hands were touching all the right spots on Sam’s body, fondling her senseless. This one had some dangerous fingers. She arched her back, curtains of disheveled blond hair tumbling down her shoulders.

If the Nnaxan had given out his name, Sam hadn’t cared enough to remember it. Only her need mattered, feeling his coarse flesh against hers, the overwhelming desire to burn away that nagging ache and the memories of today—even if just for tonight. Exactly what she needed.

At first glance, the apartment was gorgeous. Two stories of aquamarine-walled luxury on the upper floors of a posh residential complex in Terra Sollus’s Sheffield city-state.

That included unrestricted views showcasing Sheffield’s dazzling forest of spacescrapers and the Avalon River below winding through the downtown corridor. The apartment’s curved architecture surrounded a tube-shaped forcefield housing a massive saltwater tank. The circular pool on the second floor served as the tank’s opening, reaching down to the first floor like an oversized middle pillar. The water tank oozed ripples of pale cerulean light throughout the unlit apartment.

However, the intruder sneaking through its corridors had little interest in those aesthetics.

The human/cybernetic hybrid known only as Darkstar crept past the brilliant glow of the water tank, exposing a broad-shouldered building of a humanoid at six-foot-seven. His cobalt-blue body armor, essentially a second skin of weaponized cyber organics, was etched with circular dull grey patterns. The sleeveless overcoat he wore was black as night, flowing just past his knees, ideal for hiding a variety of weapons and tools.

It had taken some doing, but Darkstar had finally found ways to circumvent the advanced Vigilance-Tech watching over city-states like Sheffield, allowing him to breach this complex unnoticed. He searched high and low over the apartment’s furniture, focusing on anything that might look ordinary in a Galdorian’s residence on a non-oceanic world. That might hold the proof he was looking for.

Hojkoddi Nolo, the apartment owner, was out this evening and would not return for another 4.5 orvs.

What better time to conduct a covert and uninterrupted search?

Darkstar scrutinized every coral sculpture with chalky colors and shapes fanning outward in contorted veins, examining them down to the minute cracks and chips. He ran his fingers along those aquamarine walls, scanning the technology behind them that powered this apartment’s systems and protocols.

Nothing.
Not in the walls, the sculptures, the angular tables and chairs, or the holoimages.

He shook his head in frustration, causing his long ponytail of thick copper braids to jostle from side to side. Had he arrived at the wrong address or wrong time?

No,
my intel is sound
, Darkstar reminded himself. A pricey yet trustworthy data broker had tied several disappearances to Hojkoddi Nolo through an intricate web of smuggling rings. Initially the connection to Hojkoddi Nolo made no sense at the surface level, and none of these disappearances were of anyone notable. More to the point, it had baffled Darkstar why a Galdorian restaurant owner would adopt this sudden fondness for abducting others?

Until he had discovered one unshakeable fact—each abductee had either dined or had a blood relative dine at one of the Galdorian’s many restaurants over the last four months. And half of these abductees happened to be unregistered maximums.

Darkstar had seen this intricate pattern of abductions before: twelve members of a certain species captured, half might exhibit a recessive genetic trait, other times a third or a quarter or an eighth of the abductees would have a near vestigial genetic trait. Most likely, they would breed each group in a controlled and accelerated environment together to see which genetic trait thrived.

This reeked of Cybernarr behavior, meaning Hojkoddi Nolo was either a Cybernarr thrall…or an undercover Cybernarr himself.

Darkstar felt a chill just considering the latter theory.

But that was why he had arrived at this place, in this time.

Uncover and terminate the Technoarchy threat.

The tangible proof he needed had to exist somewhere in this residence. He moved toward the apartment’s internal translifter to check upstairs.

Then he felt it, a shiver up his spine from something reacting to his presence.

Cybernarr technology definitely existed inside this apartment.

I knew it.
But where? He turned slowly around, guided by that sensation, and found himself directly facing the water tank.

Darkstar inched closer at an unhurried pace. The gold faceplate shielding his nose and mouth took on an eerie green shimmer as he stepped fully into the aura of watery light. Only the forehead on his honey-brown face was visible, that and a beady pair of intense violet eyes widening in anticipation.

Standing up against the forcefield, he saw the delicate swirls of saltwater and a few steel-grey fish creatures native to Galdor.
A perfect cover
, he decided, fixating on some of the tinier bubbles, dull metal dots nearly microscopic in size.

The intruder cautiously pressed a hand against the forcefield, the warmth of the solid energy seeping through his protective gauntlet. In short order, a thousand little bubbles surged through the water and coalesced into a cloud of shiny foam around the spot where his hand rested.

Not even the most detailed observer would notice if a Galdorian plunged into the tank to swim through these innocent-looking bubbles, which were miniscule cybernetic organisms that interfaced with the Technoarchy Connectivity. Not unless the observer was a half-Cybernarr hybrid like Darkstar—or a Cybernarr sleeper like Hojkoddi Nolo. Probably either an Infiltrooper or Razor sub-class.

“Of course,” Darkstar realized aloud, his voice bearing a deep, digitized cadence. No doubt the ‘real’ Hojkoddi Nolo, if he ever existed at all, had been dead for a while. The half-Cybernarr took no pleasure in his accuracy about this sleeper agent. Still, a giddy buzz flooded his insides. Stopping the Technoarchy’s further expansion had been his sole mission in life for so long. And now, he’d found proof of their attempted foothold in Union Space.

Almost instantly those bubbles in the water lit up and flew apart in different directions.

Darkstar scowled and scanned about the apartment. Every translucent viewport fogged up and turned opaque. A security forcefield triggered by his presence. Now he couldn’t transmat out. And Hojkoddi had been notified.

“He’s coming,” Darkstar stated. The hybrid backed away from the water tank and steeled himself in preparation, waiting.

Half an orv passed before Hojkoddi Nolo strolled through the front door.

The impostor was a head shorter than Darkstar, wearing a dark seaweed-thread suit of the finest quality, as if he’d just come from a Galdorian Aquopera performance. At first glance, he had all the typical Galdorian features—rubbery purplish-maroon skin, beak-like mouth, webbed hands and feet, two foot-and-a-half tall eye-stalks perched atop his head. But one look in those golden eyeballs told a different tale—cold, soulless intelligence, scrutinizing how best to dispose of him. And not once did his eyestalks ever bend or tremble to convey any form of emotion. The circuitry-like conduits beneath his Galdorian skin, though hidden to the casual observer, practically bulged out from Darkstar’s perspective. Definitely not a real Galdorian.

“It appears that we have an uninvited guest,” Hojkoddi announced in a perfectly croaky Galdorian cadence.

“I could say the same about your presence on Terra Sollus, ‘Hojkoddi Nolo’ or whatever your real name is,” Darkstar flexed his left hand, a swell of pitch-black energy forming in it.

An ebon tanto blade at four-and-a-half feet took shape in Darkstar’s clenched fingers. How could a full-fledged Cybernarr hide in plain sight on the Union homeworld? Some type of upgraded sub-class?  He would find out before killing the beast. “I have a few questions, if you don’t mind.” He advanced toward his target with bold strides—until a female Galdorian slipped through the front door behind Hojkoddi. 

Darkstar froze. He wasn’t expecting her. His surveillance never indicated Hojkoddi having a companion. This complicated matters significantly.
Collateral damage
, he bristled.

The female Galdorian, slim in build and even shorter than Hojkoddi, flinched away from Darkstar in fright. “Is that…is he a…?” Fear seemed to have rendered her speechless.

“An unconnected halfling? Correct,” Hojkoddi finished her question, those lifeless eyes of his never leaving Darkstar.  “Now be a good poppet and eliminate him.”

The female instantly launched herself across the room at Darkstar, webbed fingers curling with lethal intent. The about-face left the hybrid dumbstruck…for half an instant.

“A thrall,” he hissed, catching the female Galdorian by the throat with his free hand. Tiny jagged veins of gold had appeared on various parts of her rubbery maroon skin. Her eyes bulged, turning milky white and losing any vibrancy.

She flailed her limbs violently, silvery claws bursting out of her hooked fingers to swipe and slash repeatedly at Darkstar’s face. He lurched away from her swipes, knowing and seeing that her personality had been consumed by Hojkoddi’s single-minded will.

Becoming a Cybernarr thrall was a fate worse than death, if not halted in time.

There was still time for this one. Under different conditions, Darkstar could save her.

He stared into the puppet’s vacant eyes with a flash of remorse and whispered, “Sorry.” The hybrid hauled the Galdorian off her feet. He then swung his black blade up in a swift, savage arc, slicing her open from crotch to cranium.

The Galdorian dropped to the floor with two wet clunks, inky blue blood splattering everywhere.

He returned his attention to Hojkoddi and saw he was gone—right as a knotted tendril of ribbed wires burst out of the wall to the left. Darkstar ducked low and slashed, cleaving it apart.

The false Galdorian had merged his physical form fully with this apartment’s technology, wielding it as a weapon.

Two more thick corded tendrils shot forth from behind Darkstar. The Cybernarr hybrid somersaulted overhead, hacking the wriggling tendrils to pieces in quick, brutal swipes.

Half a dozen more snaked, one spearing Darkstar through the right calf. He grunted and almost buckled to a knee as a white-hot bolt of pain roiled up his leg. Another caught him flush in the upper back, then another through the left forearm and another through the gut. Each strike was searing agony, but the hybrid fought down the temptation to cry out. He would not give this Cybernarr the satisfaction.

Darkstar found himself skewered and strung up high in front of the saltwater tank, every movement an agony. His pulsating ebon blade slipped from trembling fingers.

Only then did a fountain of liquid metal spurt up from the apartment floor. The oozing jet swelled and took the shape of a Galdorian.

Suddenly Hojkoddi stood before him. Watery light bathed the Cybernarr’s emotionless face as he marched forward, not sparing even a brief glance at the gutted corpse of his thrall.

Fear began slicing at Darkstar’s resolve the closer Hojkoddi came. He thrashed and squirmed with every bit of strength he had, until the coils restraining him jolted his body with blistering fire. The hybrid gasped and drooped, held up only by the mesh of tendrils skewered through him.

Hojkoddi wasted no words or time to gloat. The fake Galdorian grabbed Darkstar by the chin, drew back his arm and shoved the hybrid’s head back
through
the saltwater tank forcefield.

Suddenly Darkstar’s world turned wet and azure and ice-cold. His face mask immediately sealed up and provided much-needed oxygen, but that was the least of his worries.

The tiny bubbles that reacted to his presence earlier now coalesced again into a silvery cloud, and then shot through the water at his exposed face on Hojkoddi’s command. Darkstar could only guess that those ‘bubbles’ would infect his cybernetic systems with junk technorganic code, self-replicating until he drowned in toxic cybernetic goop. Or they would alter his systems and make his cybernetics mistakenly assume his human components were an infection.

Darkstar had seen others die one of these ways firsthand, and now he was next.

He tried to jerk his face loose from the Cybernarr’s webbed hand.

But Hojkoddi’s grip was unyielding. And Darkstar’s demise was inevitable. Unless…

The hybrid closed his eyes, ignoring the sharp bite of his multiple injuries and the stifling pressure of the saltwater on his face and regained focus.

That focus ignited a burning in his chest that swelled and intensified, flooding his injured body with revitalizing power.

The spray of greyish bubbles were about to hit his face when Darkstar discharged a bright sweeping arc of concussive force from his body. Hojkoddi went flying back and for a brief moment, the darkened room was bright as daytime.

Promptly, the bubble cloud in the water tank dissipated, Hojkoddi’s grip on his face was gone, and the tendrils impaling his limbs went slack. Free from the water tank, Darkstar lurched forward and faceplanted hard on the floor. His faceplate’s filters opened up and he breathed in the freshly recycled oxygen of the apartment.

Too close
, he told himself, sucking in laborious breaths. Straightaway, Darkstar yanked out the four tendrils still impaled through his body. Each removal hurt worse than the last, carroty-colored blood oozing out of every wound. He shook his braided head, spraying tiny droplets of water in every direction, and then struggled painfully up to his feet. Luckily, Darkstar had that concussive burst trick up his sleeve for whenever the odds weren’t in his favor.