“How many stops are we expected to make?” groused Captain She’er, First Seat aboard the transgalactic cruiser Ba’akre 221B. “At this rate the passengers will have to go into cryo-sleep to avoid dying of old age.”
Regular inspections were understandable, but this was a simple, two-week transport run from Londland to Parance. They’d stopped at the Luxen Band checkpoint not three days ago and passed without incident. The Ba’akre 221B might not be as new or elegant as other ships in the fleet, but She’er made sure it was kept strictly up to code.
“Captain, it isn’t Regulatory.” Second Seat Le’es sounded puzzled. “It’s the IEA. They’re requesting permission to board.”
What could they possibly want? Probably nothing good, and yet She’er’s pulse thrummed with anticipation. Usually, all that came aboard were passengers traveling between the capital world of Londland and the ten planets of the Euroan galaxy.
Of course, She’er had never expected captaining the Ba’akre 221B to be as stimulating a career as the previous—Chief Investigator for the Interplanetary Enforcement Agency. But when tasked with finding a less risky occupation, it had seemed the obvious choice: Translate years spent flying ships, originally a hobby to stave off tedium between cases, into a career. Unfortunately, it hadn’t taken long for the monotony to release a familiar and tenacious enemy—boredom.
“Tell the IEA to come alongside,” She’er said. “Lock Three. No word on what they might want?”
“No, Captain.” Le’es studied the communications console. “All they say is that it’s an urgent matter of interplanetary security.”
She’er tried not to reveal untoward excitement. “Very well. I will welcome the enforcers aboard personally. Take the First Seat, Second.”
“Yes, Captain.” Le’es offered the formal salute of crew member to superior officer: fold hands in front of chest and bow. The Second’s head dipped extra low. Rather more dramatic than protocol, She’er noted, but decided not to waste time correcting the minor infraction.
She’er all but jogged through the corridors leading to Lock Three. A few passengers waved—mostly the little ones. She’er managed to smile back, though each child was a painful reminder of hasty words and postponed actions. A parting spousal accusation that this choice of career had turned out to be less about safety and more an excuse to avoid me still stung.
Six members of an IEA detail were waiting with two of the ship’s security team. One of the latter, a Belgean, folded four hands and bowed. “Captain, this is—”
“I know who it is.” She’er was startled enough to almost forget manners entirely. “Wa’ats? What are you doing here?”
An enforcer with gray-blue hair, skin the pale blue of middle age, and the uniform of an IEA chief stepped forward. “Captain,” Chief Wa’ats said. “This Retrieval detail appreciates your cooperation in allowing us to board without appropriate notice.”
Sensing the weight of the crew and enforcers’ stares, She’er sought an appropriate response. “Chief, you and your people are welcome, of course. Might I inquire as to the reason for this most…unexpected visit?”
The chief’s steady gaze wavered. “It’s a matter of some delicacy, Captain. Can we go somewhere private so we don’t alarm anyone who might see us and make, ah, assumptions?”
“I’ll have refreshments brought to your people in the mess. You and I can retire to my quarters. We can speak freely there.” And you had better make it good!
As if a mind reader—and considering how long they’d known one another, that argument could be made—Wa’ats said, “Thank you, Captain. I’m sure once I’ve explained the situation, you’ll agree our need to interrupt your trip, while unfortunate, is vital.”
She’er escorted the chief to the captain’s quarters in uncomfortable silence. The door hadn’t slid fully shut behind them before She’er demanded, “What by the fangs of the Hound Below are you doing here?
Wa’ats sighed. “I swear this has nothing to do with our disagreement before you left home.”
They kissed. Though it was briefer and more awkward than those exchanged in happier times, it still affected She’er deeply. For a few breaths, everything—this delay likely to result in passenger complaints to the home office, the hurtful words exchanged during their last argument—receded into meaninglessness.
Firmly, if regretfully, She’er broke contact and stepped back. “Then I am eager to hear your explanation for this unheralded visit.”
Wa’ats strode over to the small bar that stood out from the otherwise utilitarian furnishings and poured two fingers of She’er’s best irewhisk. After adding a third finger’s worth, the chief gulped it down.
She’er raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you on duty?” It wasn’t like Wa’ats to take such liberties while on a case.
“Yes, exactly. As in I’m not here as some passive-aggressive gesture or whatever nonsense you’re thinking!” Wa’ats’s hand shot up. “Sorry. I’m more than slightly on edge. For the record, I regret that we didn’t part on better terms.”
“As do I,” She’er said reluctantly. “So, what exactly brings you to my proverbial doorstep?”
“We’ve received intel that you took on a stowaway during your stop at the Luxen Band checkpoint.”
“Impossible! My crew mustered everyone afterward and found no irregularities.”
“Be that as it may, we’re confident that someone onboard isn’t themselves anymore, but rather an escaped criminal.” Wa’ats’s hand shook while setting down the glass.
Drinking. Tremors. That’s more than the usual worry over a case. The fine indigo hairs dotting She’er’s arms prickled. “You don’t mean a Displacer?”
“It’s Mori, She’er,” said Wa’ats, confirming the worst.
“That’s…how?” She’er stumbled backward against a desk, gripped the edges, and maneuvered around to sink into a chair. “Mori was sentenced to execution by The Scoyard’s magisters a year ago!”
Wa’ats came around, knelt with some difficulty, and grasped She’er’s hands. “I’m very sorry, love, but it didn’t happen. Mori’s sentence was delayed due to a jurisdictional challenge by Gerany. Because of the political implications Londland kept the stay of execution under wraps. Meanwhile, Mori remained in prison until about a week ago, when she somehow escaped.”
Pulling free of Wa’ats’s grip, She’er raked fingers through a tangle of curls. “By the Hound’s bloody claws, how utterly incompetent does a prison have to be to let a high-profile criminal just…slip away!”
“Believe me, many heads are set to roll over it, including one belonging to a member of my detail.” Wa’ats stood with a groan. “Competency issues aside, our main concern is recapturing Mori before—”
“The spawning begins.” She’er felt ill.
Mori was a Displacer, a criminal even by the standards of her own people of the outermost Euroan world, Amrigh. The all-female Amrighans were staunch believers that their method of procreation—via parthenogenesis and insertion of a spawn into a host, where it rewrote their DNA—made them an evolutionarily superior race. But the majority confined themselves to only displacing their dying sisters, recycling corpses to house fresh lives.
However, Displacers were rabid xenophobes with a thirst for conquest. They had cropped up throughout Amrighan history, with Mori being one of the most notorious for using procreation as a weapon of conquest. She’d nearly succeeded in displacing key members of Gerany’s parliament before She’er and then-Underchief Wa’ats put a stop to her plot.
“If you’re right, then by the time we reach Parance her spawn will have matured. We’re running at capacity. Even if she only infests a third of the passengers, that’s a couple hundred Displacers of spawning age within days. Set loose on a planet of Parance’s size? They’ll take it over in,” She’er quickly performed the calculations, “three months!”
Wa’ats nodded, grim-faced. “Hence the urgency. We have to find Mori as quickly as possible, not just for the sake of the innocents aboard, but to protect an entire world.”
“You mean galaxy,” muttered She’er. “No way will she be content with anything less. After Parance, it will take no time for her spawn to spread to Belge, and from there on to Gerany, through the Luxen Band, and ultimately home.” Londland, largest of the Euroan planets, would be her final target, but by then it would face an army of unstoppable size.
“We could use your help figuring out who she’s mimicking from among your passengers.” Wa’ats glanced away. “You are the one who tracked her down last time, after all.”
“We did,” said She’er, more as an attempt at being considerate than to correct a misstatement. They both knew who had been principally responsible for deducing Mori’s cover identity as Gerany’s Minister of Infrastructure. Displacers were near-perfect mimics, able to transform themselves into copies of their targets and absorb their memories. There was only one tell—Amrighans didn’t have sweat glands. An arrogant Mori, believing ‘lesser’ beings wouldn’t notice, missed that. One deliberately overheated conference room had been all it took for She’er to blow her cover.
That was when, desperate and cornered, Mori fired an exterminator at She’er. It had only been due to good fortune and Wa’ats’s reflexes that the Hound Below was cheated of a new soul to chase for eternity. Soon after, caught up in having been saved by Wa’ats at the cost of a permanent wound, She’er impulsively proposed they start a family. Considering all Wa’ats had done, not to mention lost earlier in life, it had seemed the least She’er could do.
“…to begin?” Wa’ats was saying.
She’er blinked. “Pardon?”
“Are you even listening to me?” An eye roll. “Of course not, you’re already off in your own mind. Look, I know I said we shouldn’t work together anymore. Nevertheless, since you’re still not a pregnant female—”
“I have every intention of morphing to bear your child.” She’er suppressed a familiar sense of dread. “Soon.”
“Our child, She’er. The whole reason we agreed you should leave the IEA was because you said you wanted to start a family.” Wa’ats made an erasing motion in the air. “My point is, I’m fine with involving you.”
“I’m honored,” said She’er drily.
“Just don’t forget who is in charge of this investigation. These enforcers are my detail. Are we clear?”
She’er bit back multiple retorts. “Certainly, Chief Wa’ats. So long as you remember that as First Seat of this vessel the safety of the passengers and crew are ultimately my responsibility, one I take very seriously. Is that clear?”
Wa’ats frowned, but nodded. “Crystal.”
“Excellent.” A case again, after so long! “Then the game is—”
“Not,” said Wa’ats sternly. “Look, I know you’re itching to get back into action.” The chief tapped She’er’s nose. “It’s written all over your adorably pointy little face. But these stakes go beyond life and death to galactic conquest.”
She’er gripped Wa’ats’s shoulders. “My dear, that’s what makes it worth playing!”
• • •
She’er stalked into the guest quarters. “This had better be worth pulling me away from my investi—I mean, duties.”
“Captain.” Security Crew Ca’ar offered a quick but precise salute, flushed face the cyan of youth. “Apologies, but the chief insisted.”
Wa’ats crouched in the center of the room over a crumpled body. “Enforcer Jon’na is dead, Sh…Captain. I thought you should be informed.”
She’er knelt beside Wa’ats and helped roll the corpse over. Both recoiled from the sight as Ca’ar gagged behind them.
Jon’na’s mouth was agape; teeth, bone, and flesh swirling inward as though being sucked into a black hole. Soon the features would disappear entirely and the body would collapse into moldable but unrecognizable flesh.
She’er combed fingers through hair and slowly rose. “How many crewmembers know about this? Any passengers?”
“None yet, Captain. I was patrolling and heard screams. When I didn’t get a response I used my passbeam to gain access, and then…I found this, and thought.” Crew Ca’ar was trembling. “I went into the hall to hit the alarm, but then I spotted the chief and…I’m sorry if I didn’t—”
“Pull yourself together, Security,” She’er commanded. “You’re a professional. Behave like one!”
Crew Ca’ar snapped to attention. “Apologies, Captain. I hope I responded appropriately to the situation by obeying Chief Wa’ats’s request not to raise a general alarm.”
“Indeed. The last thing we need is ship-wide panic.” Glancing at Wa’ats and receiving unspoken approval, She’er said, “Take the body down to Refuse. Once the chief gives the go-ahead, incinerate it. Contact the Second Seat for instructions on using service corridors and otherwise avoiding drawing attention to this—situation.” She’er added, more gently, “Then go draw yourself a Belge beer. Or three.”
“Yes, Captain.” Ca’ar gave the body another repulsed glance, then began speaking into a standard-issue multicom wristband.
“We don’t have long to collect evidence as to how…or when…damn it all!” Wa’ats punched the floor. “How in the Hound’s Den did Mori get to one of my people?”
“Steady on. Focus on the facts.” She’er waved to indicate their surroundings. “Jon’na’s exterminator is still holstered on the nightstand. Other than the bedclothes on the floor and this chair, which, judging by its position near the body, was likely knocked over by the victim, there’s scant evidence of violence.”
“Probably sound asleep when Mori attacked,” Wa’ats said with disgust.
“Then how did she get in?” She’er nodded at the door. “These quarters remain locked unless an occupant deliberately allows entry, and Displacers can’t mimic anything small enough to fit through the vents.”
“A break-in, then?”
“Both noisy and visible.”
Wa’ats rocked back into a seated position. “Unless someone has a multicom band equipped with a passbeam.”
The implications of that sent a shiver down She’er’s spine. “Not impossible, but unlikely. Only bridge crew and security have that level of access. None of them left the ship during the checkpoint—standard operating procedure.”
She’er sifted through memories from their original investigation. Displacement normally involves a violent assault, during which a spawn is forcibly introduced into the host’s brain through a facial orifice. “Death normally occurs instantly following implantation, though visible manifestation could take an hour or more.”
Wa’ats tried to stand, wobbled. She’er proffered a hand and Wa’ats took it with a nod. The chief’s palm was sweat-dampened either from upset or the unusually warm quarters. “Are you suggesting Jon’na was attacked elsewhere and dumped here?”
“However improbable that seems, we should trace Jon’na’s movements since boarding earlier today to determine where and when a prior attack could have occurred. In the meantime, I’ll pull the logs from all multicoms equipped with passbeams and review usage for the past twenty-odd hours.” She’er refocused on Jon’na. “Where and how aren’t the only questions demanding answers. Why is the body here?”
“What do you mean?” Wa’ats’s puzzled expression shifted to realization. “Mori left her spawn for us to find instead of hiding it somewhere to safely develop. She had to know once Jon’na was discovered we’d destroy the body.”
“Exactly. Why would she willfully sacrifice a spawn?”
Wa’ats’s brow furrowed. “Considering Displacers’ fanatical devotion to their offspring, no matter how numerous, it doesn’t make sense.”
“Indeed. But Mori’s true motives are rarely obvious.” Ah, the thrill of navigating the corridors of a twisted mind. How I’ve missed this!
“What are you smiling about?”
“Nothing, sorry.” She’er regained composure. “Mori may have hoped whoever found Jon’na would raise an alarm and incite panic among the passengers. Then we all would have been kept far too busy to pursue her. Still, if that’s the case, why kill an enforcer instead of a passenger?”
Wa’ats sighed. “Remember I told you one of my detail was on the hook for Mori’s escape? Jon’na was in charge of her escort to an extradition hearing the day she vanished. Though Jon’na testified that she’d already been turned over to The Scoyard’s guards, the blowback of having been the IEA representative on the scene resulted in a severe reprimand. It prompted Jon’na to beg onto my Retrieval detail in pursuit of career redemption.”
“So, we have a connection between victim and aggressor, however tenuous.” She’er raked fingers through curls several times. “Mori could simply be out for revenge. She certainly tweaked your nose by taking out one of your people.”
Wa’ats’s breath caught. “If you’re right, she might not be content with just the one. Thus eliminating the danger my detail poses to her plans and utterly humiliating me.” Wa’ats tapped a lapel com pin. “Retrieval! Converge on—”
“Careful.” She’er pulled Wa’ats’s hand away. “Don’t further her efforts by sending a stampede of enforcers through my ship, or you will create the very chaos she desires.”
Wa’ats nodded, and She’er let go. “Belay that. Underchief Victria and Enforcer Clo’or, report to Enforcer Jon’na’s quarters on Deck Three for a briefing immediately. Don’t draw attention to your movements. Acknowledge.”
Each responded in the affirmative. Wa’ats tapped off the com and looked so distraught that She’er impulsively offered a hug. “Courage, my dear. We bested Mori before and will again. Remember, logic over emotion. She preys on the latter.”
“Easy for you to say.” Wa’ats pulled away. “You’re always able to remain detached, no matter whose feelings are involved.”
She’er tried not to show how much Wa’ats’s barb stung. “In my experience, rational detachment improves most situations.”
The nearly forgotten Ca’ar interrupted with a throat-clearing noise. “Captain, Security is arriving.”
Two more members of ship’s security entered, pushing a gurney with a body bag on top of it. They were unexpectedly followed by Le’es. “Second?” said She’er. “There was no need for you to leave the bridge.”
“I beg your indulgence, Captain,” said Le’es, clasping hands and bowing too low again. “Given the tone of Crew Ca’ar’s report I thought it best I oversee the disposition personally.”
She’er considered Ca’ar’s traumatized state and reluctantly agreed. “I trust in your discretion, then.”
Le’es said curtly, “Of course, Captain,” and immediately shifted attention to supervising the process.
Perhaps you’ll make an effective First Seat yourself someday, Le’es. The older officer had served on multiple transgalactic cruisers, rising through the ranks to Second Seat shortly before joining the Ba’akre 221B’s crew. She’er didn’t know Le’es well despite their having worked together for a year, but had observed enough to ascertain Le’es was an ambitious sort.
The removal team wheeled Jon’na’s body into the hallway. She’er was about to follow when Wa’ats said, “I didn’t mean to dredge anything up.”
She’er sighed and pulled Wa’ats to the far side of Jon’na’s room. “Then why did you?”
“Because your continued deception is distracting!”
Taken aback, She’er demanded, “What do you mean?”
“Your enthusiasm at this horror confirms what I’ve suspected.” Wa’ats poked the center of She’er’s chest. “You hate that you gave up your career with the IEA. The only reason you pitched replacing the family I lost, as if that were a thing anyone could do, was to repay me for saving your life!”
Startled by Wa’ats’s keen observation, She’er hesitated. It’s more than that. I just love you so much that I wanted to ease your pain. “No, I…want a family. I do.”
“Then why aren’t we one already?” Wa’ats sucked in a breath and spoke more quietly. “You act like I don’t understand how difficult it would be on you, or that morphing male would be a treat for me. I’ve done it before, remember, despite the discomfort and inconvenience.”
“I’m well aware of what you did for your first spouse.” She’er grimaced. Stop it, you sound like a jealous teenager!
“Like I told you before, your fear of how morphing female would affect you,” Wa’ats tapped a temple, “is unreasonable.”
“It’s basic biochemistry,” She’er retorted. “Multiple studies have identified a marked difference in mental acuity when Londlanders are in our natural asexual state as opposed to while female. Or male.”
“It’s temporary. You can morph back to normal right after weaning.”
She’er sighed. “That isn’t all there is to consider. We both know I received this commission largely because of my fame back home, and not due to experience or even my admittedly stellar marks on the captaincy assessments. Taking a couple years off when I’ve only occupied the First Seat for a year would be pushing my luck.”
“Plenty of captains have families, love. They just take their children along on trips sometimes.”
Arms folded tightly, She’er said, “It’s all so simple for you, isn’t it? And why not, when other than a brief physical change, parenthood wouldn’t disrupt your life one whit!”
“Look, I’d be more than willing to be the one who morphed female if I were younger. Whatever it took to produce a child, and just as eagerly as I would have for Ma’ar.”
“Yet even back then you didn’t, and look how well that turned out.” Wa’ats recoiled as though struck. “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to belittle that loss. I know you still mourn Ma’ar and your baby. Why do you think I want—”
Wa’ats’s expression hardened into steel. “No, I apologize. This whole conversation is completely inappropriate.” The chief marched out of the room.
She’er slowly counted to ten and followed, catching up to Wa’ats and the security team in the corridor just as a pair of enforcers arrived. “Please keep all civilians away from the crime scene, Captain,” said Wa’ats, once more a model of professional detachment. “If, after my people’s examination of Jon’na’s quarters, we find anything you need to know, you’ll be notified.”
“Fine. I’ll deploy the remainder of ship’s Security to patrol covertly against subsequent attacks.”
Without responding, Wa’ats directed the enforcers to search every inch of the crime scene. “I will accompany the body myself and see to its thorough examination before incineration.”
She’er started to object, but decided against it. Wa’ats won’t listen anyway.
And whose fault is that?
The captain stormed back to quarters, eager to refocus on the peaceful, emotionless complexity of deduction once more.
• • •
She’er drummed fingertips on the armrest of the First Seat, irritable from lack of sleep and attention split between overseeing the mundanities of shipboard operations, the case, and last night’s row with Wa’ats. “Second, still no word from Chief Wa’ats?”
“No, Captain. Not since your spou…” She’er glared at Le’es. “Er, the chief dismissed me after we reached Refuse.”
Is there really no evidence worth sharing with me, Wa’ats? Or are you so furious that you’re excluding me from the investigation out of spite? She’er couldn’t believe Wa’ats would do that, no matter how miffed, but it was harder to believe absolutely nothing of relevance had been found. Even a total absence of clues would be noteworthy.
“Captain?”
She’er blinked, wondering how long Third Seat Shil’lir had been standing there. “What is it?”
Flinching, Shil’lir thrust forth a thinscreen like a shield. “Begging your pardon, Captain. I have the reports you requested.”
She’er snatched the thinscreen from the nervous junior officer’s hands and immediately regretted it. No wonder the crew is skittish around you. She’er affected a genial tone. “Thank you, Third. Please continue reviewing the morning checklist with the Second Seat.”
“Aye, Captain.” Shil’lir retreated, obviously relieved to be assigned to a less mercurial supervisor.
She’er read through the comprehensive reports. Besides Jon’na’s murder, there had been no suspicious incidents since the IEA’s arrival, and no unauthorized use of a passbeam. Though not impossible for a determined villain to falsify a multicom’s log, it was highly improbable.
“You had days. So why not displace anyone before the IEA boarded?” She’er muttered. “How did you infest Jon’na without a struggle? Did you drug—”
She’er realized the crew were casting confused glances in the First Seat’s direction. As one does when one’s commanding officer natters aloud to nobody in particular. “Second,” She’er said gruffly, “please track down Chief Wa’ats. Third, assume the Second Seat.”
“Yes, Captain,” said Shil’lir, folding hands and bowing.
“Aye.” Once again, Le’es’s version was just exaggerated enough to cross from respectful to contemptuous.
Enough already! “You need to refine your acknowledgement of me, Second! It’s this.” She’er rose and demonstrated the precise salute. “Otherwise, you might as well be telling me to go screw myself! Unless that’s exactly your intent?”
The entire bridge fell silent except for Shil’lir, who couldn’t contain a small gasp. The crew quickly directed their full attention to their consoles.
Le’es’s eyes blazed with such anger that She’er nearly backed up a step. Yet within the span of a blink the anger vanished, replaced with an affectation of subservience. Executing a flawless salute, Le’es said, “My apologies, Captain. I thank you for the lesson.”
“Accepted.” But suspicion fired She’er’s senses as Le’es left the bridge, stiff posture and aggressively squared shoulders belying the apology.
“Captain?” said Shil’lir. “Incoming message from the IEA.”
“Relay it.” She’er remained distracted by Le’es’s behavior, unable to find the sense in it. Nothing untoward had occurred between them before now to warrant such blatant animosity.
“Captain, Underchief Victria,” said the enforcer in a Parancian accent. “Apologies for disturbing you, but Chief Wa’ats, is there?”
A flicker of dread. “No. Why do you ask?”
“The chief missed our morning briefing and has responded to hails not at all.”
She’er clutched the back of the First Seat. Wa’ats is utterly scrupulous about such things. Meaning this lack of contact might not be a fit of pique after all. “No, I haven’t heard from my…your chief since last night. I just sent my Second to—”
She’er froze. Oh, I am a fool. A rusty, blind idiot!
“Captain?” Victria said tentatively.
“Please rendezvous with me in Refuse immediately. I believe Chief Wa’ats is in grave danger.” Or worse, after so many hours have passed. “Be prepared for containment, as I suspect your quarry will also be waiting.”
“As you say, Captain. We meet there within twenty minutes, yes?”
“I will be there in five. Kindly accelerate your timetable.” She’er ended contact without awaiting a response. “Third Seat, assume the First.”
“I, uh, really? I mean, aye, Captain!”
She’er crossed the bridge in five long strides, opened the weapons locker, and withdrew a suppressor. It wouldn’t offer much protection, but it was all that was available since they weren’t a military vessel. After double-checking that it was fully charged, the captain sprinted off the bridge.
A vice tightened around She’er’s heart. Wa’ats was right that someone used a passbeam to enter Jon’na’s room, but wrong about Mori boarding during the checkpoint. No, she’d mimicked someone before their trip began, and been onboard all along. It wasn’t beyond her capabilities to have transmitted false intel to lure Wa’ats, while delaying her first attack to coincide with the IEA’s arrival in order to maintain her cover.
Ah, Le’es. All those little affronts. Insisting on overseeing Jon’na’s disposition personally—but not out of devotion to duty.
To rescue a spawn from incineration.
• • •
She’er listened intently, but it was difficult to hear anything over the steady susurrus coming from the huge incinerator at the center of Refuse. The steel-plated walls and flooring trapped the moist heat, making the air oppressive.
“Captain? Good, I found something for you.” She’er whirled and aimed the suppressor at Le’es, whose gaze traveled slowly down the barrel. Le’es raised both hands. “Uh, there’s no need for that.”
“Oh, I beg to differ.” She’er kept the weapon trained dead center of Le’es’s chest. “I know who you are.”
They glared at one another for several heartbeats. Then: “Permission to speak plainly, Captain?”
“Please do.”
Le’es’s deferential expression dissolved into a sneer. “This just proves you’re utterly unqualified for command. By the Hound’s bloody claws, how you managed to snatch the First Seat at all, let alone hold onto it for a year, is unfathomable.”
She’er blinked. “I’m not here to discuss my qualifications with a murderous megalomaniac, thank you very much. Where is Chief Wa’ats?”
“Oh, right. Your wayward spouse.” Le’es made a tsking sound. “This way.”
They walked toward a storeroom behind the incinerator, where racks of broken and obsolete machinery were stored. “I figured I’d retrace the chief’s steps starting from where we last saw one other. Turns out I didn’t have to go beyond my first stop.”
Le’es pointed to an archway leading into the storeroom. “I’d just spotted the chief when you showed up. Probably indulged in a bit too much irewhisk.” A derisive snort. “You’ve driven me to do the same more than once. Being married to you must require barrels’ worth.”
This isn’t going quite as expected. She’er moved cautiously past Le’es and backed into the narrow, dimly lit room. The sight of a figure on the med gurney (why wasn’t that removed after the incineration?) quickly captured the captain’s full attention.
“Wa’ats!” Shoving the suppressor into a belt holster, She’er dashed over and began examining the motionless chief. Still alive, thank the Hound’s Keeper. But Wa’ats was breathing raggedly, eyes closed. Closer examination revealed bruises, including a sizeable one purpling the left temple. Dried blood formed rivulets from the injury.
Fury tinting everything red, She’er charged at Le’es, who was propelled backward against the incineration unit. “I’ll see the life fried out of you for this, Mori!”
“Mori…who? What are you going on about—ow!” Le’es struggled but She’er pinned the Second Seat against the steel casing. “You’re burning me, you maniac!”
“I ought to toss you right into this incinerator, along with that spawn I’m sure you rescued! I knew you wouldn’t sacrifice it. Unfortunately for you both, the IEA will be joining us momentarily!”
“Well, thank the Hound’s Keeper for that,” gasped Le’es, face aglow from the sweltering heat. “I’ll have more than your captaincy for this. You should be locked away!”
“As you will be again, soon. Which is the least you deserve!”
Something isn’t right. She’er tamped down the emotions preventing rational thought. Why wasn’t Mori shifting into her natural form and fighting back? And what was it about this form—
By the Hound Below! She’er released Le’es, who scuttled toward the storeroom. The Second braced each hand against the sides of the archway and wheezed, uniform soaked with perspiration.
“You aren’t Mori,” said the captain, stunned. “Amrighans don’t sweat. Why would she bother simulating it once her cover was blown?”
“What…who’s this Mori you keep ranting about?” Le’es panted.
She’er clutched a double-handful of hair. “Oh, I am stale. How could I be so wrong?”
Awash in a nauseating wave of self-recrimination, She’er didn’t realize the IEA detail had arrived until an enforcer spoke in a familiar Parancian accent. “Captain, what is the situation? The chief is located, no?”
“Yes, Underchief Victria.” She’er struggled for poise. “Injured, but alive.”
“Thank the Keeper,” said Le’es, reaching toward Victria. “The captain’s mind has snapped. You need to arrest—”
Le’es’s body went rigid, mouth still working, though all that came out was a high-pitched rattle. A thin stream of blood followed. The center of Le’es’s torso had been hollowed out. She’er recognized the black-rimmed, bloodless hole as the distinctive result of an exterminator fired at close range. Tidy, but fatal.
Le’es toppled to the floor with a clang of skull against steel as Wa’ats appeared in the archway, exterminator in hand. Its muzzle still glowed faintly.
“Chief! You are well.” Victria holstered her exterminator and signaled the rest of the detail to follow suit.
“Wa’ats,” said She’er, relief warring with shock. “Are you all right?”
“Thanks to you.” Wa’ats pointed to Le’es’s body. “Had you not turned up I’ve no doubt Mori would have finished the job she began last night. Once our attention was focused on examining Jon’na’s remains, Mori shifted into her true form and attacked.”
“Did she?” She’er’s heart sank. You already know that cannot be!
“Unfortunately, Mori had the element of surprise. First, she decapitated Ca’ar,” said Wa’ats, as though reciting a lesson. “Then she made quick work of the rest. Of course I tried to intervene, but you know how strong Amrighans are in their natural form.”
Wa’ats’s uniform had sweat stains under the arms. “Indeed I do,” murmured She’er. “So where are their bodies?”
“Probably not enough left to displace, so she incinerated them.” Wa’ats holstered the exterminator and stepped over Le’es to embrace She’er. “Looks as if you’re my hero this time.”
She’er struggled not to resist the embrace while studying Wa’ats’s face. “That head injury…looks nasty. We should get you to Medbay.”
“First, we must find Jon’na’s body before maturation.” Wa’ats addressed Victria. “Underchief, begin searching. I’m confident Mori stashed her here to gestate in this warm, secluded space. It’s perfect for cold-blooded beings like Amrighans.”
Her. “Start with the storeroom,” said She’er.
Victria looked to Wa’ats, who smiled briefly before nodding. “But of course,” she said, and led the detail into the storeroom.
She’er fought to sound calm. “When I found you lying in there—”
“Poor dear.” Wa’ats cupped the captain’s jaw with a cold, dry palm. “You must have been simply overwrought.”
“Chief?” Victria’s voice, tinged with uncertainty, echoed from the storeroom. “Someone is here.”
“How did you recover your senses so quickly?” She’er pushed Wa’ats away. “And since when would you make a kill shot, from behind, when you had the drop on a prisoner?”
“Why,” said Wa’ats coyly, “when my beloved spouse is about to be torn limb from limb.”
“Chief Wa’ats?” Victria sounded alarmed. “Wait, what is this?”
“One moment, love.” Wa’ats winked, strode over to the archway—and drew the exterminator.
She’er hesitated only a moment before charging after Wa’ats. “Victria! Take cover!”
Wa’ats swung an arm suddenly armored in chitin and ending in a sizable claw. It struck She’er in the solar plexus. Breath fled and the world cartwheeled past, until an abrupt impact released an eruption of pain. Searing, it flowed from the base of the captain’s skull to suffuse each limb. Vision faded into a haze of gray and black.
Eventually, She’er became aware of screams, though it took somewhat longer to comprehend their dire meaning. She’er clawed at the steel wall, struggling to rise. Wrong again! Mori didn’t board in Londland or at the checkpoint. No passbeam was needed. Jon’na simply recognized a friendly face and welcomed in a murderer.
As did you.
An agony far worse than physical pain sent She’er sliding back into a heap. Mori mimicked Wa’ats. And if that’s true—Wa’ats must be dead.
Overwhelmed with grief, She’er didn’t notice the slaughter had ended until Wa’ats’s voice said, “Sorry about the interruption, love. Where were we?”
Looking up at the beloved, false face made it nearly impossible to do anything but ache. Existence without Wa’ats would be impossible, meaningless. There had to be another explanation, however improbable.
So find it!
“Ah, yes.” Wa’ats—no, Mori—stood over She’er, lips twitching upward at the corners. “You were just realizing what a fool I’d made of you. Although, in your defense, you are more than a bit out of practice when it comes to the fine art of deduction.”
She’er struggled into something closer to a sitting position. Anguish warred with hatred, but She’er refused to give Mori the satisfaction of falling apart. Wa’ats always accused you of being too much a creature of reason. Your only hope is to live up to that criticism.
“Now, don’t be too hard on yourself. After all, it’s that spouse of yours’ fault that you’ve wasted the last year play-pretending at being a captain.” Mori chuckled. “How ridiculous! What a waste of your sacred gifts. Why, Wa’ats deserved to die for insulting my best enemy like that alone.”
It hurt to breathe. Cracked ribs. At least two broken. “You’re right. I am out of practice. Indulge me?”
“Why not.” Mori sank onto her haunches. “After all, I’ll soon be too busy tending my new brood to have time for adult conversation. Though you could never be my peer, being a disgusting Londlander eunuch, I do find you less contemptible than the rest of your kind.”
“You have no idea. What that means. To me.” Each movement sent fresh bolts of pain down both legs. Compressed vertebrae. Possibly fractured. “Why kill. An enforcer first?”
“I recognized Jon’na from that hellish confinement into which you and your dead lover cast me.” Mori yawned. “But you know this. Come, be clever for me.”
She keeps mentioning Wa’ats to drive that stake deeper into my heart. Hope flared, and with it renewed strength. “If you mimicked Wa’ats long before the IEA boarded, as you clearly want me to believe, why not displace anyone sooner? Why waste the opportunity to displace me?”
“Right away?” Mori smirked. “No sport in that.”
Ominous, but not an answer. “Fine, then why leave Jon’na to be discovered?”
“All part of the game, She’er.” Mori’s natural sibilance leaked through, blurring her words. “I wanted to ruin you by making you suspect and ideally execute one of your crew. Did you have any idea how much the Second Seat detested you? It took me hardly any time to notice it, figure out why, and use it against you. Londland rescinded Le’es’s opportunity to command this cruiser in order to gift it to you. Their hero.”
Well, that explains Le’es, albeit too late to make amends. She’er slid a hand behind while trying to sit up straighter, but even that slight movement was too much. Vision shrank to a tunnel view. However, it did confirm the suppressor was still in its holster, just twisted around back.
Mori was so close their noses nearly touched. “You were almost a match for me, once. I don’t say that lightly, particularly to an un-Amrighan thing. Yet you abandoned your true calling at the behest of a controlling spouse to wither away on this glorified ferry, on which a grasping simpleton like Le’es dared condescend to you!” She patted She’er’s cheek hard enough to bruise. “You’re fortunate I arrived, so I could free you from their degradations.”
“That was a neat trick. Escaping prison. Infiltrating the very detail sent to hunt you down.”
Mori batted her eyes. “You’re impressed.”
“Wa’ats—you told me The Scoyard blamed your IEA escort in part for your getaway. Was that true?”
“Yes. Why?”
Finally, the pieces fit. “So, Jon’na was in close proximity to you. Perhaps a bit too close?”
Mori’s eyes narrowed. “Well, now, isn’t that an interesting theory?” The hum underlying her words grew more pronounced. “But how do you explain seeing that particular unfortunate in the process of becoming mine with your own eyes?”
“A performance. No wonder the quarters were so warm. You posed as Jon’na and used mimicry to simulate displacement. Then we made the very error you knew we would—fail to examine the body for life signs before removal. Why would we when it was clearly transforming? A simple, yet quite effective, bluff.”
Mori applauded. “Ah, your mind! So creative.” Her humor abruptly vanished. “I mimicked a random guard who fed me that day. Then I infiltrated IEA headquarters by mimicking a member of the cleaning staff, until one fateful night when poor, lonely Wa’ats was working late. I slaughtered and disposed of your beloved, then used all that lovely IEA data at my fingertips to find you, concoct a false lead, and bring a detail onto your ship.”
Her voice buzzed as it swelled. “You took from me, so I took from you. For my freedom. For my beloved spawn, slaughtered after you revealed my plans on Gerany. Can you even comprehend the depth of a mother’s love? She wants to give her children everything—worlds, galaxies. And she would destroy everyone to avenge them.”
“You’re right. I can’t understand it.” The honesty of the admission surprised She’er. “But here’s what I do know. You’re a liar, as well as a psychotic, xenophobic monster.” She’er tightened fingers around the suppressor, using every ounce of discipline to ignore the waves of pain surging one after the other. “I also know Jon’na never boarded this ship, and Wa’ats is not dead!”
Mori smirked. “How?”
“The simulated perspiration was a nice touch. Just enough to make me think you’d learned your lesson from our previous encounter, not enough to prevent my suspecting Wa’ats.” She’er caressed Mori’s right temple with trembling fingers. “Yet this time you made an even more egregious error.”
Mori’s whispered in She’er’s ear, “Which is?”
“That bruise on your head? It’s on the wrong side.” Before Mori could react She’er drew the suppressor, jammed the muzzle under her chin, and fired.
Mori reeled backward as electricity crackled through her skull. She’er all but fell after her, firing repeatedly, knowing the suppressor didn’t have the deadly force needed. If I can just disrupt her cellular control—
Mori’s screech bloomed into a buzzing roar like a thousand swarming beasps. Her mimicry of Wa’ats dissolved as she lashed out, knocking the suppressor from She’er’s hand.
She’er crawled toward the storeroom, gasping for breath with each agonizing movement. The only chance for survival was getting hold of a fallen enforcer’s exterminator. Ignore the pain. Focus on the task. One inch, now another. Do it for Wa’ats if not yourself!
Abruptly, She’er was flipped over and staring up into the compound eyes of Mori in her true form. Her four mandibles opened, up and down, side to side. “Why didn’t I just kill Wa’ats. Ask!”
“W—why?”
“Because Wa’ats wants you to bear a child. Meanwhile, you’d rather have your head snipped off than reproduce.” She snapped her pincers close to She’er’s ear. “You’re about as maternal a creature as that incinerator! Yet you offered, because you sought parity with the late, beloved Ma’ar.”
“It has nothing to do with—”
“Please. I know it, because Wa’ats knows it.” She clacked her mandibles in the Amrighan version of a chuckle. “How sweet of you to sacrifice your desires for your spouse’s. And won’t it be de-li-cious when Wa’ats awakens to find the child you’re incubating—is mine!”
Pincers clamped around the captain’s neck and left wrist. Trapped and suffocating, She’er couldn’t struggle, couldn’t even scream, as Mori spread her mandibles and extended her thick proboscis. The tip dilated and clamped over She’er’s mouth in a horrific mockery of a kiss.
But then Mori jerked back. Her proboscis retracted and the pincer pinning She’er’s arm released.
“Get off of my spouse!”
Mori let go of She’er’s throat, reared back, and screeched. She’er blinked several times to regain focus, and saw her entire right arm lying on the floor nearby.
Wa’ats, features contorted with determination and fury, staggered over and fired again, but missed. Mori started after Wa’ats, and She’er seized the opportunity to roll toward the incinerator, both to afford Wa’ats clearer aim and discourage firing toward the combustible unit.
The next blast severed Mori’s right leg at the knee. She dropped to the floor with another scream, then swiveled and began dragging herself after She’er again. “We shall meet your Hound together!” she hissed.
Wa’ats appeared above her and jammed the exterminator’s muzzle against the back of her neck stalk. Another burst, and Mori’s head tumbled to the floor. Her body twitched forward another inch or two, clacking pincer nearly reaching She’er’s feet before finally lying still.
She’er moaned and curled into a fetal position, shivering despite the heat. Then Wa’ats was there, cradling She’er gently. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”
“I knew.” She’er struggled to focus on Wa’ats’s face. Even bruised and creased with worry, it was a heartening sight. “You couldn’t be. Gone. The universe wouldn’t bear such. Injustice.”
Wa’ats’s voice receded. “Hold on, love. Help is coming. Please, don’t leave—”
That was all.
• • •
It took months, first in the hospital on Parance then back home, but She’er eventually recovered, save for the occasional discomfort. Wa’ats provided such good care that on reflection the former First Seat remarked, “Perhaps you missed your calling. You would have made a wonderful physician.”
Wa’ats snorted. “That career would fit me about as well as captaining the Ba’akre 221B suited you.”
She’er shrugged and took another sip of Londlandian greytea. “I was an excellent captain.”
“Of course. You’re pathologically incapable of not excelling at whatever you do.” Wa’ats picked up a filescreen and waggled it at She’er. “Nevertheless, it wasn’t where you belonged.”
She’er set the cup down on Wa’ats’s desk. “Are you sure about all this? My returning to the IEA.” A pause. “Not having children.”
Wa’ats smiled briefly. “Mori was right. That wasn’t what you wanted and we both knew it. Selfishly, I hoped that the idea would grow on you. Then when I saw Mori about to force herself on you, to make you—I realized I was doing the same thing.” She’er started to object but Wa’ats plowed on. “No, not literally, but I was still pushing you to do something you didn’t want. To become someone you didn’t want to be.”
“I shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up.”
“It’s okay, really.” Wa’ats smiled tenderly. “What I want more than a child, more than anything? Is for you to be the She’er I married. My partner in every way. Eager for the next challenge. Happy.”
“Mori was right about another thing. A parent should want a child fiercely, be willing to do anything and everything for them.” Choking up unexpectedly, She’er mumbled, “For whatever reason, that’s just not in me. I—I’m sorry.”
“Don’t you dare.” Wa’ats tapped She’er on the head with the filescreen. “Enough. The IEA doesn’t pay us to sit around gabbing over greytea. Are you ready?”
She’er took another moment to look around IEA headquarters. Sterile walls. Serviceable furnishings. Stacks of filescreens filled with unsolved cases. I’m finally home.
The freshly reinstated Chief Investigator stood and snatched the filescreen from Wa’ats’s hand. “You know me, my dear Wa’ats. My mind rebels at stagnation!”