Star Brigade: The Supremacy (SB3) (56 page)

A lanky and wiry shadow resembling Jan’Hax reached out from the dark, traveling down the length of her torso and belly with a tongue of pitch-black, familiar yet prickly against Sam’s skin. Her face contorted as the tongue slithered between her thighs, going to work. Before long, an excruciating bliss shuddered through her…

…and jolted Sam awake with a gasp. Her eyes fluttered open. She was lying on her back, staring up at darkness. For a moment, Sam hoped she was still deep in a Pure O blackout.

The fuzzy brain and achy muscles, however, told her otherwise. Judging by her surroundings, she was in some random dwelling on the Star Brigade Living Quarters’ third level.
Downstairs.

With the Brigade’s roster so small, this level had been vacant for over a year.

Sam had no memory of coming here, getting naked, or whom she had asked to meet here. Memory holes during a blackout, one of Pure O’s caveats.

Sam pushed messy tangles of hair from her face and tried sitting up, but couldn’t. At this point, she finally noticed the uncomfortable weight on her torso, and saw the problem.

Jan’Hax was using Sam’s breasts for pillows, his gangly green body draped across her. In the darkness, she saw he also lacked clothes.

Soooo. That happened.
Chunks of patchwork memories began filtering through—calling Jan’Hax to meet here, both Brigadiers taking eye drops of Pure O. The foggier stretch that followed grew clearer, particularly Jan’Hax’s duckbilled face burrowing between her thighs.

Sam grimaced, waiting for the gut punch of guilt, just like with their rendezvous after CT-1’s departure.

She felt nothing…except relief.
Why should I feel bad?
Maybe it was the Oblivion talking. Or maybe because Sam had known she and Habraum were done even before the actual split.

She twisted right, pushing Jan’Hax off. He slid to the side in a floppy, long-limbed heap. Not caring to linger, Sam climbed to her feet slowly and tiptoed around the dimly lit apartment for her clothes. All she found not belonging to Jan’Hax was a rumpled grey magnezipped hoodie too large for her.

The AeroFleet emblem on the back and lettering across the front indicated its owner, a former AeroFleet pilot. Sam had “borrowed” it months ago after spending more time at his place than her own.

Was that all I wore?
Nearby, Jan’Hax began stirring. Her mouth twisted bitterly as she slipped on the hoodie, which reached mid-thigh in length, and scurried away.

Returning to her vacant quarters, Sam’s sole objective was to drown in an ocean of alcohol. Morning was several orvs away, leaving plenty of time.

She rummaged through her liquor cabinet in the rarely used kitchen and found her favorite bottle of liquid heaven, 40oz of Orionid’s finest black dwarf whiskey.

“Te quiero.” Sam filled a tumbler with sparkly ebony liquid, draining it in two gulps. She pulled a face. The tart kick nearly froze her tongue off before scorching down her throat. Relief, delight, security, and familiarity packed into one little glass, dizzying but fleeting.

Goddamn tolerance.
She almost refilled her glass, then realized how stupid that was with bottle in hand. Flinging the tumbler aside, Sam clutched the bottle’s slender neck and sucked down gulp after gulp after gulp.

After polishing off the black dwarf, Sam staggered over to the huge 3D holo-recreation of the Supremacy’s Ruin on her living-room wall. The cataclysm that destroyed the Ttaunz’s star-spanning realm over two centuries ago unfolded before her. Hundreds of worlds with billions of citizens, extinguished by one brutal supernova over and over. The beautiful visual made Sam think of CT-1, and not just because it was a gift from Habraum.

Her heart ached anew for her former teammates, to fight alongside them again.

Sam drew Habraum’s hoodie closer and hugged herself, rolling her neck around to stretch out the kinks. His musky fragrance clung to the fabric, whittling away her resolve not to miss him. “Fuck you, Habraum,” she slurred, lurching back toward her liquor stash. “Need sumthin stronger.”

A door chime stopped Sam in her tracks. She scowled and stomped over to the foyer, annoyed by the interruption. Whoever it was better be quick.

“Enter.” Her door hissed open and Surje entered, five foot ten inches of wiry muscle and skittish energy.

“Capt—” The Voton’s white pupil-less eyes widened. “Captain!” Surje radiated pale-red light and swiftly turned away.

“What?” Sam followed where his horror had fallen and gaped. “OH. Motherfuck…” In her stupor, she’d failed to fully zip up Habraum’s hoodie. She swiftly fixed that with a woozy smile. “Safe now. Whaddya want?”

Surje turned to confirm she was covered, then mouthed, “Privacy mode.”

Sam frowned, but called for private communications as asked.

“Sorry for the lateness.” He walked further inside. “But this couldn’t wait. My message.”

“Would it’ve killed ya to use comms?” Sam wigwagged a lazy hand at the ceiling.

Surje shook his tricrested head. “Can’t trust comms with this.” He seized Sam’s arms, which felt like someone stabbing lightning forks into all of her nerve endings. She nearly collapsed if not for Surje’s grasp.

“
Maicào
!” Sam shoved him off angrily once the electric shock diminished. “What the hell?”

The Voton was unapologetic. “I need you sober to hear me out.”

Sam recognized then that her blissful mental fog had lifted.
So much for getting drunk tonight
.  “Talk.” She guided Surje toward the couch and sat beside him.

“Its Solomon Yin and Kingston Reyes,” Surje began, “both were sabotaged.”

“How you figure?”

“Scatter encryption,” the Voton replied, “dispersing a message in tiny data nanobytes across unrelated outgoing transmissions before those bytes reconnect at an anonymous endpoint. Untraceable unless you know what to look—”

“I know about it,” Sam interrupted impatiently. “Your point?”

“One such transmission went out before Solomon was made and killed, then another before we lost Reyes. At least five were sent from this station in total.”

“A Children of Earth mole aboard Hollus Maddrone?” Sam suppressed a shiver, truly hoping she’d never get that news. “Where on the starbase are the transmissions originating?”

“Still searching. For the location,” Surje answered in his Voton staccato speech. “I’m monitoring all human starbase personnel as you requested. But finding nothing solid yet. My main suspect probably uses a more advanced scatter encryption to hide transmissions, as a slicer would.”

Sam stiffened, already seeing this trail’s end. “You suspect Addison.” Surje nodded. She was no fan of Raichoudry, but this about-face baffled her. “You were one of her biggest apologists. What changed?”

The Voton put his head in both hands, looking so young and lost. “Losing two moles, the untraceable transmissions, Addison kissing up to Captain Nwosu yet disrupting CT-2’s Children of Earth investigation. These cannot be coincidences.”

Sam shook her head with a weary smile
.
“Addison was already psi-scanned by Lethe when you, Lily, and V’Korram exfiltrated her from Seredonia. He scanned her again ten weeks later. I’ve had her watched since she returned. It’s probably not her.”

“What if she’s found ways around Lethe’s psi-scans and your surveillance?” Surje pressed on stubbornly, “Maybe using a shadow AI that fools even the deepest psi-scans? She’s a top-rated slicer and very smart.”

“Yes, she’s smart.” Surje’s theory wasn’t holding up. Sam would have to let him down easy, despite his evidence piquing her interest. “What if you’re wrong?”

The Voton stared ahead as the ruby gleam of his body dimmed and brightened like heartbeats. “What if she has what you humans call ‘Stockholm’s Syndrome’ from being undercover so long? Jan’Hax joked about that after she returned. But he might be right. Addison might still be a Children of Earth agent.”

Sam was quiet for several moments, chewing on that statement. These facts felt too obvious, but if Raichoudry was a threat to Star Brigade… “This investigation stays between us,” she finally stated. “Crack those encrypted transmissions, get their origins and destinations. And widen your search outside of just Raichoudry.”

The Voton was a dog with a bone on this hunch. “And if I’m proven right?”

Sam looked at him directly, her features hardening. “Then we contain and eliminate the threat.”

The quarters Kyas’argiid had provided the Brigadiers and TerraTroopers were in a spacious building near the city center. Inside housed a large, red-walled common space adjoined to five smaller bedrooms.

Despite his grief, Kyas’argiid kept his word: one of his spies delivered data to Habraum about the Ghebrekh’s whereabouts. Marguliese processed the data thanks to her fluency with Quud kineticabulary.

As soon as the Quud left the Brigade’s quarters, Khrome dashed from corner to corner, activating a makeshift privacy forcefield around their gathering. This would cancel out outgoing noise and distort their movements from eavesdroppers.

“Currently, the Ghebrekh are at Kakencha Beach,” Marguliese stated once the Thulican finished. “They plan on traveling to Akkabe Plateau tomorrow morning.”

Khal voiced the location into a 3x5” datapad, laying it on a small slab in the middle of the group. A scaled-down holo of Akkabe Plateau instantly appeared above the device: a backdrop of cracked terrain stretching roughly three miles in every direction, covered by copious flat cone buttes. A data scroll accompanied the hologram.

Habraum’s eyes nearly popped.
I saw this place last night.

“Rocky highlands with a system of micro-geysers.” Khal pointed at a cone-shaped geyser on the display. “Most are constantly erupting.”

“Akkabe is an orv and a half south of the Qiidr Mountains by shuttlecraft,” Byzlar noted.

“
Not
an option,” V’Korram growled. “The Ghebrekh could vanish before we arrive.”

Marguliese circled the holographic display with graceful strides. “There appear to be several transport pillars around the plateau, so entry is not an impediment.”

“It’s a matter of where we can sneak in undetected,” Habraum stated, staring at the holographic display of micro geysers. Something about them felt far too familiar, far too tied to that odd experience from last night.
Cortes had the same experience, which was why she got drenched.
He glanced at his medic, who had since changed into dry clothing. Cortes remained focused on the holo display.

“Also notable,” Marguliese added, her right eye flashing like a jagged cerulean starburst, “our informant obtained a visual on a Ghebrekh hostage, a young Ttaunz male.”

Fiyan spun about, whipping her long, loose craniowhisks. “Taorr the Lesser’s alive?”

The Cybernarr arched an eyebrow. “That
is
what I just articulated.”

Khal scratched his chin. “Didn’t expect Ghuj’aega to keep Taorr alive. Seems more like a burden.”

“Poor youngling.” Khrome shook his flat-topped head. “Ghuj’aega’s probably tortured him crazy.”

Habraum bristled at the thought. “No sign of a Kudoban ambassador?” He remembered his promise to try saving Lethe’s mentor.

“Negative,” Marguliese replied.

“Wait,” Lily’s tuneful voice drew everyone’s attention. “The Quud say Qos is the Zenith Point, and Ghuj’aega is its avatar. Khal, please show Qos’s position tomorrow at 0800 orvs?”

Khal smirked playfully at the medic and typed away. “0800 orvs.”

The display of Akkabe shrunk as a hologram of Qos appeared. Habraum didn’t miss Cortes’s reaction, looking like she just choked on a wishbone. Qos hung
directly over
Akkabe Plateau.

Khal looked up and added, “Qos will stay tidally locked with Faroor for three orvs afterward.”

Marguliese arched an eyebrow. “Plainly this is a deviation in Qos’s regular lunar sequence?”

Khal nodded.

Tyris furrowed his hairless brow. “I doubt this is just happenstance,” the Tanoeen said.

Fiyan appeared unmoved. “But it gives us a potential time that Ghuj’aega and his ilk will arrive.”

“Exactly,” Habraum accepted. The mystery behind Qos could wait. “I don’t care if Qos grows a mouth and sings. Ghuj’aega is the prime concern. We know a location, potential time, and that Taorr is alive—currently. Let’s stop moon gawking and find a way to
end Ghuj’aega
.”

A tense air hung over the rest of the evening. The thought of how much intel Tosh’logiid could have revealed to them and other moles possibly present in Qiidr Ol-Chaeda hung on everyone’s minds. For almost two orvs, Star Brigade and the TerraTroopers ran through tactics and counterattacks, depending on the Ghebrekhs’ hypothetical location and responses.

Time bled away as did the group’s patience, particularly between Star Brigade and the TerraTroopers, Khal and Khrome, V’Korram and everyone. But Habraum kept their focus on the mission and squeezed out five alternate strategies, all solid but flexible in regards to possible setbacks. Finally, when everyone’s nerves were cooked, the Cerc ordered them to bed so they could be up by 0700 orvs.

Sleep offered little solace. Habraum awoke after only a couple orvs—his mind racing with mission logistics, possibly dead hostages, Jeremy, Sam. After throwing on a red tank top and sweatpants, the Cerc ventured out of the Brigade’s dwelling into Qiidr Ol-Chaeda’s streets at 0520 orvs in the morning. A fog had settled over the city, making visibility a bit challenging. He took with him a floating recording orb, or “recorb,” that Khrome had rebuilt.

Just a few Quud warriors haunted the streets this early, most of them staring curiously. The unplanned hike led Habraum to one of the taller pyramids. He sprinted to the top, then back down. Sprinted up, jogged down. After eleven reps in forty macroms, the Cerc was drenched but more clearheaded. He sat down at the pyramid’s apex. His timing was perfect. To his left was a clear view of the Qiidr Mountains, white billows spilling leisurely through steep slopes between the peaks. At his right, Herope’s dirty crimson glow peeked over the horizon, washing the night away in slow, subtle waves.