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First ChapterPrevious Chapter***The aliens engaged in another rapid-fire discussion, then turned back to the ambassador.“We see your point,” one of them said, a flash of sympathy in her violet eyes. “Perhaps our speculation is unfair, but you must understand our perspective. Millions have perished at the hands of the insect fleets, we were utterly defeated at Ker’gue’la, and we would have lost of the battle of Val’ba’ra was it not for the Coalition fleet that came to our aid. Our civilization, our species...it was almost extinguished. Now you ask us to bring you into our flock, to trust you, to forgive your transgressions.”“We realize that yours is not the same hive that attacked Ker’gue’la and Val’ba’ra,” another added hastily, “but the comparisons are unavoidable.”“You speak of promises,” a third said, her feathery headdress flashing in shades of yellow and orange. “What exactly do you offer?”Holly straightened herself, her demeanor changing, her four hands clasping behind her back to give the air of a general who was about to command her troops.“I believe that we can offer you something of value, something that will not only benefit your people but potentially begin to make amends for the actions of our cousins.”That got their attention, the Valbarans appearing to huddle closer to their camera as they waited for her to elaborate.“Would it be inaccurate,” Holly continued, “to say that taking back the planet Ker’gue’la is your people’s greatest aspiration at this time? Righting that wrong, avenging your dead?”The four aliens communed again, chattering for a moment before giving their reply.“After rebuilding our defenses on Val’ba’ra, that is our most immediate goal, yes. We had hoped to enlist the aid of the Coalition in the endeavor.”“The Jarilo colony pledges their support. We are prepared to provide you with an invasion fleet once we have replenished our numbers sufficiently. Betelgeusians are evolved to fight one another, we can develop castes tailored to countering their forces on the ground, and in greater numbers than the other Coalition members can muster. We are also prepared to provide technology and logistical support that will help even the odds. We can intercept their pheromone signals just as a conventional soldier might intercept enemy troop orders over radio, we know their battle doctrine, we understand the layouts of their tunnels instinctively. Imagine if every Coalition unit was provided with a Jarilan Drone who could warn of impending attacks and track enemy movements. You will know their secrets, their weaknesses, they will be robbed of their strengths.”The Valbarans began to talk hurriedly again, Holly not missing a beat as she continued her proposal.“And when the battle is won, and the enemy presence has been excised from the planet, legions of our Workers will help you rebuild. They can work longer and harder than any vertebrate, they are tireless, driven. Your fallen cities could be repaired, and new infrastructure could be built in mere months rather than years. With our help, Ker’gue’la will be cleaned of its infestation and made habitable again with the fewest possible Valbaran casualties, and in the smallest possible window of time.”The aliens became even more animated, pausing to glance at her occasionally as they debated in their strange tongue. They seemed to want to come to some kind of consensus before they gave her a reply. Two of them were apparently arguing, their feathers flashing in shades of red. When they were done, they turned their reptilian snouts back to Holly.“Your offer is an intriguing one, Ambassador,” the leftmost Valbaran began. “You have clearly studied our history, learned what offers we might find most tempting. We question your sincerity in wanting to right wrongs after having argued so passionately to distance your people from the Betelgeusians, or your cousins, as you refer to them. But we do not doubt your ability to follow through with your promises, we are all too familiar with the capabilities of a hive fleet.”“The question that we must now ask ourselves,” another of the bird-like aliens added, “is whether the potential benefits outweigh the potential dangers. We do not doubt that you could raise a powerful fleet in time, but who would its might be directed against? That is harder to determine.”“We have your assurances,” the rightmost of their number said, “but you yourself have explained why that may not be enough. Yet we also concede that you must be given the opportunity to prove yourselves. If there is a chance of peaceful cooperation, however remote, then we must consider it.”“Then...you will support our application?” Holly asked, the antennae on her head standing erect and seeming to flutter in an invisible breeze. She sounded almost afraid to say it out loud, as though acknowledging the possibility might somehow cause it to escape her grasp.“There will be another council meeting in the coming days, where your status will be decided,” Netza replied. “The Coalition has been very fair in allowing us a vote on the matter despite our membership not being fully formalized yet, and we intend to make use of it. I will discuss the issue further with my flockmates, and we will present our decision on that day.”“Thank you for your consideration, Ensi,” Holly replied with a respectful bow of her head. “I am sure that you will vote wisely, whatever the outcome.”The four Valbarans replied with a subtle nod of their heads, the feed shutting off a moment later. Harry watched as Holly left her place in front of the monitor, making her way over to the couch. She turned and flopped down onto the cushions, lounging in a decidedly un-ambassadorial fashion, one of her four arms draped over the armrest.“Congratulations,” Harry said with a grin, waltzing over to join her. He sat down on the opposite end of the couch, glancing over at Holly, whose eyes were closed as she leaned back against the headrest. “You’ve changed a few minds today.”“I was designed to perform ambassadorial duties,” she replied, the plates on her face arranging into a smile as she loosed a low chuckle. “So why do I feel like I’m barely pulling through?”“Maybe you’re just ambassador-ing harder than anyone intended,” he suggested with a wink. “You should take a break, you know, wind down a little. If you keep up this pace for too long, then you’re gonna get burned out.”“Burned out?” she asked, opening her eyes and cocking her head at him inquisitively.“Yeah, exhausted, drained. If you don’t take time to recuperate, then your work will suffer, you can’t keep going indefinitely.”“My people do not require breaks,” she replied dismissively, closing her eyes again.“Well you sure look like you do,” he said, her antennae flicking with annoyance. “Come on, don’t you think that this is cause enough to celebrate? It’s not in the bag yet, but if just one of the delegations decides to vote in your favor, your mission is complete. They both sounded pretty sympathetic to me, even the Valbarans.”“Are you rooting for me now, Sergeant Hayes?” she asked, opening one eye to peer at him.“I don’t know about all that,” he grumbled, crossing his arms defensively. “I did say that I didn’t want to get involved in the politics of it all, and I haven’t changed my mind, but...I guess I’m starting to warm up to you a little. I can like you without having to get behind the Jarilans, right? Hell, I have some good Martian friends, but that doesn’t mean I have to support their cricket team.”“Cricket?” she asked. “You are losing me, Sergeant.”“Trust me, there are some things you don’t want to know about humans,” he replied.“Oh, you are making a joke. Very humorous.”“But you’re not laughin’,” he said, maintaining eye contact with her until her resolve cracked. She began to chuckle, covering her painted mouth with her hand in a futile attempt to stifle it.“Very well,” she finally conceded, “we may celebrate. In any case, I have nothing more to do while I wait for the next council meeting. I fear that the Borealans would not be so easy to convince.”“The cats are stubborn, that’s for sure. They might be persuaded in time, but they’ll never admit that they’re wrong unless you back ‘em into a corner. I’m going to teach you a new human skill.”“And what is that?” she asked.“How to relax,” he replied. He pointed over his shoulder at Blackjack, who was resting in his usual place on the wood floor, his barrel chest slowly rising and falling as he snored quietly. “Where did you think BJ learned how to do that? I’m an expert on the subject.”“I think that if Blackjack became any more relaxed, he would be dead,” Holly chuckled. “So tell me, what do humans do to wind down, as you put it?”“On this station, we’d usually head down to the recreation center and get some drinks in us, play some card games or maybe some pool. We can’t do that, of course,” Harry added. “The Chief has confined you to the suite. Otherwise, we might watch a movie, play some videogames. But again, the Chief has ordered me not to let you use the computers, so that’s probably off the table.”“Then...what may we do?”“What my folks would have called a quiet night in,” he replied, rising to his feet and making his way over to a touch panel on the far wall. He dragged down a slider, the lights in the rooming dimming, then tapped at another icon. Beneath the monitor that was mounted on the wall at the front of the living room, a holographic, three-dimensional image flickered to life. It started off transparent for a moment before becoming solid, Holly’s eyes widening as she watched from her seat on the couch. It was as though a fireplace had appeared from thin air, carved from what looked like white marble, the wood logs in the open hearth already beginning to sprout licking flames.She slid down from her seat, inching across the carpet to examine it more closely, her antennae waving in the air in search of more information. The stonework seemed so real, reflecting the soft light in the room, the crackling fire casting an orange glow along with wavering shadows. As Holly drew within a foot of the hologram, she recoiled, looking to him for guidance.“I know that it is not real,” she said, the firelight creating beautiful hues of blue and green in her iridescent carapace as it cast its light on her. “Yet I feel heat. Would it burn me if I were to reach out and touch it?”“You’re right, it’s a hologram,” Harry replied. “It’s cheaper to just simulate one rather than cartin’ marble and wood fuel all the way out to the station. No, you can touch it. It won’t burn you, I promise.”Holly turned back to the fire, her pink eyes reflecting its glow, edging a little closer. She extended an upper hand and brushed her fleshy fingers against the marble, testing if it was solid, and watching them slide through it like a ghost. It had no mass, no texture, it was just projected light. Next, she reached towards the dancing flames, crouching so that she could touch the burning embers. Harry watched her hesitate, then she plunged her fingers into the fire, seeming relieved when she was not burned.“There’s a heatin’ element in the wall,” Harry explained as Holly batted at the flames like a curious cat. “The fire doesn’t actually produce any heat, it’s just part of the illusion.”“But...why?” Holly asked, still mesmerized. “The suite is climate-controlled. The temperature, humidity, and lighting are all maintained by the computer. I have seen you edit their properties. What purpose does this illusion serve?”“You’re askin’ why we’d go out of our way to fool ourselves into thinkin’ that the warmth was comin’ from a log fire, rather than just turnin’ up the heat in the room? Can’t you tell just by lookin’ at it?”“I do not understand, Sergeant,” she replied as she stood upright again.“There’s somethin’...primal about fire, mystical. Sure, we could just turn up the thermostat and be done with it, but it feels good to sit in front of a fire. It’s calmin’ to watch the flames dance, and to feel its heat on your face. The way it lights up the room, that cracklin’ sound. All we’re missin’ is the smell of charred wood, but we can’t really simulate that here. Don’t Bugs make campfires?”“We regulate the temperature and humidity of our colonies using a system of ventilation shafts that create convection cells,” she replied, Harry sighing.“Alright, I guess not, then. Just...sit in front of the fire and watch it for a while, tell me how it makes you feel.”She looked like she was about to argue for a moment, she probably had a question ready about what the purpose of watching fire was, and how it didn’t relate to her mission. Instead, she returned to the couch, sitting quietly as she watched the flames lick at the logs. Harry made his way over and sat beside her, the two of them peering into the hearth in silence for a minute or two.“Sometimes it’s nice to just waste time, y’know?” he muttered, Holly turning her head to glance at him. “We’re always doin’ shit, always thinkin’ ahead. We never live in the moment. What are we doin’ in ten minutes, in a week, in a year? Even when we’re takin’ time off, we’re still busy. We have fun on a schedule, we relax to an itinerary. So let’s just exist for a while and not think about anythin’.”“That-”“Doesn’t make sense to you,” he interrupted, “I know. Bugs don’t take breaks, Bugs don’t waste time, but you’re part human too. It’s important that you learn how to be inefficient.”She couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking her head at him.“So much of what you say makes little sense to me, Sergeant Hayes, yet I find it difficult to argue with you.”“We don’t have any marshmallows, and the fire isn’t real, so we couldn’t roast them anyway,” Harry added. “But a hot drink is customary when sittin’ around a campfire.”“If you keep feeding me hot chocolate, I will exceed my daily nutritional requirements, Sergeant.”“That’s another important human skill that I’m gonna teach you,” Harry replied, rising to his feet and making for the kitchen. He returned not long after with a steaming mug of cocoa in his hands, passing it to Holly, who waited for it to cool as she gazed into the flames. The plates that made up her jaw splayed open again when she was ready to drink, the off-blue proboscis dipping into the warm liquid.“How are you feelin’?” Harry asked.“I will admit that the low light and the glow of the fire has me somewhat relaxed,” she replied, continuing to drink through her fleshy straw as she spoke.“The word you’re lookin’ for is vibe,” Harry corrected. “But yeah, I think I nailed it.”“I wanted to ask you,” Holly began, pausing her drinking and retracting her proboscis. “Have you ever been to Earth?”“I’m an Earthling born and raised,” he replied, “an Iowa native.”“I didn’t want to make the assumption that all humans come from Earth,” she added, “I know that your species has many colonies.”“I’m sure that I’d appreciate the thought if I was a Martian or a Franklinite. So, what did you want to know?”“What’s it like there?” she asked, peering up at him with her expressive eyes as her antennae waved in the air. They always did that when she was curious, maybe she was instinctively trying to collect more information.“That’s a hard question to answer,” he laughed, leaning back on the couch. “Earth has a lot of different environments, lots of different places. Where I grew up has nothin’ in common with a Brazilian jungle or a New Zealand seastead.”“My father spoke of Earth’s diversity,” she replied, her proboscis reemerging to take another drink from her mug as she clutched it in her lower pair of hands. “It is hard for me to imagine. Up until a few days ago, I had only ever known the valley where I was hatched. Even beyond its boundaries, there is little diversity on Jarilo. Giant trees dominate the landscape, they have colonized every continent. It is beautiful, but no matter where one goes, everything looks...similar.”“Sounds like our Pacific Northwest, I’ve been there before.”“Yes, the Sequoia,” she replied enthusiastically. “My father often made that comparison.”“Are you into that kind of thing, like your dad?” he asked. “I guess the word would be naturalism, right?”“I spent my formative months in his company while he explored the area surrounding the hive,” she replied, staring off into space fondly. “It would be impossible for his curiosity and enthusiasm not to imprint on me. He is a courageous man, and he has an uncanny ability to see things from different perspectives. I try to embody that as much as I can.”“I’d say you’re doin’ a pretty good job so far. It took guts to come out here, to confront people when you know that they don’t want to listen to you. The right course of action is rarely the easy one.”“You attribute more bravery to me than I deserve,” she replied, “it was not my choice to come here. I was born for this role, purpose-designed.”“But you wanted to come?”“I did,” she admitted.“Well, then you can’t attribute everything to your Bug programming, can you?”“I suppose not,” she conceded, taking another sip of her cocoa. “So what was it like where you were raised? Iowa, you called it.”“Rolling hills covered in green grass,” he said, locking his fingers behind his head as he reminisced. “Lots of farmland, golden fields, hay bales. Patches of forest and snaking streams weavin’ between them. You can see for miles there, I’ll bet you can’t see a hundred feet in any direction on Jarilo, right?”“Indeed, the forests can be dense. What of Blackjack?” she asked, leaning forward to look past Harry. The giant reptile was in his usual spot, stretched out on the floor. It was hard to tell if he was listening, but he would often open one eye when something of interest was happening in his vicinity, and the one that they could see from their angle was currently closed.“BJ’s planet is different. His people live in swampland and marshes, they spend about as much time wallowin’ in mud and swimmin’ in lakes as they do on land. Livin’ on the station is a little harder for them than it is for us, they need their basking pools so that they don’t dry out, and their heat lamps to warm them up.”“Do you miss your homeland?” she asked.“Sometimes,” he admitted, “everyone gets a bout of nostalgia every now and then. How about you?”“This is all still new and exciting to me,” she said, her proboscis probing the bottom of her mug for stray droplets as she finished the last of her drink. “I have not had much time to dwell on thoughts of my home, but yes, I do miss it in some ways. Humans are a very visual people, tactile, but scent is our primary sense. We communicate with one another through pheromones, it is our language, even serving in lieu of maps and writing. Although I have learned to communicate through speech, I still consider it my mother tongue. Everything and everyone has its own smell, immediately recognizable, and some of those scents can be...compelling in their own way. When one is hungry, the sweet scent of a Replete with a crop full of honey is almost irresistible, one has to make a conscious effort to avoid following the pheromone trail to the feeding chamber in a trance. It is so vivid, visceral, you can taste it on the air. The smells here are unfamiliar, confused. It makes me feel...disorientated, in a way.”“I hadn’t considered that,” Harry said, “I guess I’d be pretty off-kilter too if someone put a blindfold on me and told me that I had to feel my way around from now on.”“It is not quite so debilitating,” she added, “but the metaphor is apt.”“What about me?” he asked jokingly, “what do I smell like?”Her pink eyes lingered on him for a moment, her feathery antennae twitching, the silence lingering until he began to fear that he had committed some kind of faux-pas in her culture. She snapped out of it after a few moments, batting her lashes at him and returning her gaze to her cup.“Like a human,” she replied, quickly changing the subject. “I would dearly like to visit Earth one day and see the things that you describe for myself. Jarilo is my home, it is where I feel most at ease, and yet I carry the genes of someone who was born there. Surely that makes it as much my ancestral home as wherever it was that my species originated from?”“I suppose so,” Harry replied. “My ancestry is Irish and German, but I’ve never felt any desire to visit those countries. I suppose alien planets have a much stronger allure.”“Did you mean what you said when you told me that I would never be allowed to set foot there?” she asked, Harry rubbing the back of his neck as he struggled to come up with an answer.“I mean...kind of, yeah. I was being a bit of an ass, I admit, I know that you’re different from the other Bugs now. But still, unless you guys really knock it out of the park with this Coalition thing, I don’t see it happenin’.”“Then we will have to knock it out of the park,” she replied.***Moralez and the two agents made their way downspin, heading in the direction of the residential quarter, where the ambassadors were housed. The interview with the Broker hadn’t been too productive, but it had given him reason enough to doubt that they had been involved. There was no motive that Moralez could pin on them for sabotaging the meeting, at least none that wasn’t so secretive and convoluted as to be absurd. Perhaps it would be a good idea to pick up the end of that thread again if their subsequent investigations produced no results. As a great detective once said; if you eliminate the impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.“Are you sure you want to skip over the Krell and the Araxie?” Boyd asked as he walked beside him, the artificial breeze rustling the leaves of the trees as they passed by a row of planters. “I agree that the Valbarans can’t have had the time or the contacts to organize something like this, but why not the others?”“The Araxie have no motive,” Moralez replied. “They haven’t even been members of the Coalition for a year, and their troops have never served against the Betelgeusians.”“I concur with the Chief,” Lorza added. “The Araxie do not have much political power on Borealis, they have been cozying up to the Elysians for protection from the Rask, and Ambassador Elysiedde made a good case for his defense.”“I suppose you guys know all about what’s going on with the factions on Borealis?” Moralez asked.“Da, it is our job to know,” the Polar replied.“We have a listening station at the planet’s pole,” Boyd added with a conspiratorial grin. “A little favor granted to us by the Polars who used to inhabit the region. It trawls the planet’s comms and sends anything juicy to UNNI.”“Isn’t that classified or something?” Moralez asked skeptically. “Why would you tell me about that, but refuse to spill any beans on the Brokers?”“It’s a well-known secret,” Boyd replied with a shrug, “not exactly airtight. If the allied factions know about it, then they don’t pay it much mind. I suppose they figure that if the UNN operates their comms satellites, then we’ll have access to all of their data regardless.”“The situation on Borealis is volatile,” Lorza continued. “Both the Rask and Elysian territories seek to expand their influence. Elysia through alliances and somewhat aggressive diplomacy, Rask through military conquest. We Polars elected to leave the planet entirely, and our population now resides in Siberia on Earth. The Araxie sought to remain hidden in their dense jungle, as they have for centuries, but Rask incursions forced them to come out of hiding and seek assistance from the Coalition.”“Incursions?” Moralez asked, “wouldn’t any hostile actions against their neighbors violate their agreements with the UNN?”“They would,” she replied, “the matter is being investigated. If it is found that the Rask violated the treaty that they signed, then there will be severe consequences. Probably not expulsion from the organization, but certainly sanctions of some form.”“I get what you’re saying,” Moralez continued, pausing to let a column of marching Marines pass them by. “If the Araxie were going to be assassinating anyone, it would be the Rask. As for the Krell, we all know that they wouldn’t even swat a fly if they could avoid it.”“What if the Krell think that they’re avoiding future deaths by preventing the Bugs from joining the Coalition?” Boyd suggested, “protective instincts and all that?”“I can’t imagine that being the case,” Moralez replied with a shake of his head. “Not with all their talk of families and circles. They seemed quite happy to have another member species back at the meeting, they voted in favor.”“Besides, how would they organize a scheme like this?” Boyd chuckled. “They’re not exactly renowned for their communication skills. Shoot big fire stick at shiny bug, me pay you with wood charm on rope!”Lorza began to lick her palm, Boyd dodging out of range and covering his head with his hands protectively.“Don’t you dare, you oversized housecat!”“Do not belittle other species, malish.”“Will you two can it?” Moralez complained, “we’re supposed to be doing a job here.”The two agents fell into line, sharing angry glances as the trio continued on their way. As they reached the end of the military quarter, near the recreation center, Moralez noticed a group of people who stood out in the crowd. It was only thanks to the subtle curvature of the torus that he could see over the heads of the throngs in front of him, able to pick out black armor in unusual configurations, and the polymer housings of their prosthetic limbs. They were SWAR, no doubt about it. These must be some of the men that Murphy had brought with him to the station at the behest of Admiral Vos.There were three of them, Moralez watching them step off the street and head for the recreation center’s door. Of course, where else would military men go to relax on the station?Lorza had noticed them too, her senses were many times more sensitive than his own, and she spared him a concerned look.“I know what you are thinking, Security Chief,” she said ominously. “But these men are not to be trifled with.”“What’s that?” Boyd asked. “Did you see someone?”“It’s about lunchtime,” Moralez said, keeping his gaze fixed on the men as they entered the bar. “Why don’t you two go get something to eat, and we’ll meet up again in an hour or so?”“I would advise against that, Security Chief,” Lorza replied. “As we say in Russia, do not poke the bear...”“Besides,” Boyd added, “Vos told us to keep tabs on you.”“The Admiral wanted you to report my activities to him, am I right? Well, if I’m talking to the SWAR guys, they’ll do your job for you. Or do you think that they won’t report everything that I say to them straight to Murphy?”“He does have a point,” Lorza said, glancing down at Boyd.“And I suppose it’s entirely coincidental that you’re agreeing with him when food is involved?” Boyd complained. “You don’t need any more food, you’re so wide that you can barely fit through most of the doors on the station. You ate four full English breakfasts this morning. Four!”“I need the calories, malish,” she shot back. “I am a very appropriate weight for my species. If you will make fun of my size, then I shall make fun of yours, little bean sprout. If your height were proportionate to your ego, you would be banging your head on the roof of the torus.”“Oh, very clever. Well you’re so fat that...hey, where’s the Chief?”The two of them paused their arguing to look around, but Moralez had already vanished into the crowd.***The familiar smell of cigarette smoke rose to Moralez’s nose as he stepped through the automatic door to the recreation center, the ceiling fans creating swirling vortexes in the haze as they spun lazily. It was midday, and so there weren’t many people at the bar, leaving most of the booths and tables vacant. Even so, the low murmur of conversations blended together, creating a background noise that kept things from becoming too quiet.The three special forces soldiers were easy enough to pick out. They were huddled around a circular table, drinks clutched in their prosthetic hands and e-cigarettes between their lips. This was one of few places on the station where smoking was permitted, so it was no surprise that there was always a cloud of smog no matter the time of day.He decided to pretend that he hadn’t noticed them yet, sauntering up to the bar and ordering a drink. The bartender recognized him, but if he thought that seeing the Chief there in the middle of the day was at all strange, he didn’t mention it. Moralez sipped at his glass of brandy for a few minutes, then turned to get a look at the trio of soldiers. They were still at their seats, huddled together conspiratorially.Moralez hopped down from his bar stool and made his way over to them, their heads turning in his direction as they heard the telltale tap of his prosthetic foot on the wood floor. They didn’t greet him as he approached them, even as he pulled up a nearby chair and joined them at their table. They were much like Murphy in their dress and appearance, wearing plate carriers that were adorned with all manner of pouches and accessories, though these men had foregone their helmets while off-duty.All three were quadruple amputees, making no effort to hide their prosthetics from view. One of them had rolled up the sleeves of his battle dress, another was wearing a Navy shirt beneath his rig, and the third had no sleeves at all.Their limbs were not models that Moralez was familiar with, each one was different, customized in some way. One had layers of supplemental ceramic armor built into his arms, blending perfectly with the plating of his BDU, the knuckles of his prosthetic hands sporting studs that seemed designed to make his punches more lethal. An after-market mod, no doubt. No doctor would have consented to manufacturing such a thing. Another had subtle, dark grey patterns that had been etched into his housing, visible only when they caught the light at the right angle. They were like tattoos, hard to make out. The third seemed to have wrapped his prosthetics in a tight covering of Kevlar that was creased at the joints, giving the appearance of fabric.Their legs were much the same. Two of them had skids for feet, and the third was wearing boots, which suggested that he had opted for more realistic replicas. There were pouches and holsters strapped directly to the housing in many places, all of them wearing shorts of varying lengths, the one with the boots securing the hem tightly around his knee joints to leave only his shins exposed.What surprised Moralez about them were their faces. Only one of them had any scars, an ugly plasma burn that ran from his cheek to his neck, while the others were as fresh-faced as cadets. After what he had been through to lose three limbs, Moralez looked like a walking piece of hamburger meat. He couldn’t imagine what kind of trauma would cost these men their limbs without leaving other marks. Perhaps they too were covered in scars beneath their clothing, but it seemed unlikely.As the three of them watched silently, Moralez drew his e-cigar from the breast pocket of his uniform, popping it into his mouth. It could be lit using a heating element, but he wanted to show off, drawing his XMH from the holster on his hip. He ejected the magazine, then turned on the battery, pulling the trigger a few times to send an electric current through the copper-colored coils. They began to warm rapidly, and when they began to glow red, he touched one of the coils against the tip of the cigar. It lit with a flicker of flame, and he took a draw, exhaling a plume of smoke as he returned his weapon to its place.The three men remained silent, confident, but curious about the intruder.“I saw you from the bar, and thought that I might introduce myself,” Moralez said. “I’m Security Chief Moralez, but most people just call me the Chief.”“We know who you are,” the one with the scar replied, taking a drink from a glass of amber-colored liquid. His skin was dark, and he had an odd accent, African Union perhaps.“I assume that your Lieutenant Commander has told you all about me,” Moralez replied. “You’re SWAR, aren’t you? You rode in with him on the modified Courser.”“That’s right,” the man replied, eyeing him warily. “Her name is the Black Arrow.”“Oh, very mysterious,” Moralez replied as he took another puff of his cigar. “You know, I’ve been in the Marines since before the beginning of the war, and I’ve never heard of a Special Warfare and Advanced Recon group until now.”“We’re relatively new,” the stranger replied, staying tight-lipped. “It’s experimental stuff.”“I’ll say,” the Chief replied, gesturing to the man’s hand with his lit cigar. “I’ve never seen any prosthetics like that before. I’ve known a few guys who lost a limb or two and decided to customize their gear a little, but these are something else. Are they custom jobs?”The three men exchanged glances, the scarred one speaking for them.“What of it?”“We have something in common if you hadn’t noticed,” Moralez said as he twirled his cigar in his polymer fingers. “Think of it like...stopping to admire a custom car at a gas station.”These men were certainly proud of their prosthetics, judging by the work that had been done on them, and the way that they displayed them. It was probably the best way to get them talking. Most amputees took measures to appear as normal as possible, covering their arms with sleeves, and their hands with gloves. They wore long pants and boots, they didn’t want to be defined by their injuries. Moralez was a little different in that regard, he wouldn’t look normal again without a lot of plastic surgery that he wasn’t vain enough to care about, and so covering up his gear was somewhat pointless.“I have to say,” Moralez continued, “it’s unusual to see someone return to active duty after sustaining such severe injuries. I didn’t,” he added with a shrug, “I took a cushy security position on the station instead. Could have retired, but I think I’d get bored living a civilian life. I don’t have to worry about getting too old to do my job, it’s not like I’ll be getting arthritis, right?”That got a chuckle from one of the men. Good, he was getting through to them.“I lost mine on Kruger III,” he continued, taking a drink from his glass as the men listened. “It was early in the campaign, and the roaches had occupied the third planet in the system. They had dug in deep, and so had we, they’d launch assaults on our trenches from their tunnels every few hours. They’d come rolling over those blasted mudflats, popping out of the mist to tangle with us, then disappearing back into their holes. I was tasked with leading a team into the tunnel network to root them out, and things went south pretty quickly. We engaged Betelgeusian Warriors in close quarters, even the Mad Cats didn’t stand a chance, they got torn to pieces. Bayonets, railguns, explosives. Nothing can scratch those things. Someone set off a grenade belt during the chaos, which caused a cave-in, and I got trapped on the wrong side of it. Me and another survivor managed to make it back to the surface, but we were engaged by another Warrior.”He stuck his leg out from beneath the table so that they could get a look at it, giving it an affectionate tap.“Lost this one to a Penguin gunship’s ground support cannon, fucker hit me as well as the Bug that it was aiming for while covering our evac. I went down, dropped the grenade that I had been holding, found it minus a pin when I came to a few seconds later. I tried to sift through the mud, but there was no chance of replacing it, and the grenade went off in my hands. Thank God for my chest plate and my helmet, they were the only things that kept me alive. When I woke up again, I was here, on the station. Took weeks of physical therapy to get me back on my feet, but I made it through. How about you guys?” he asked, glancing at each one of them in turn. “What are your stories?”“That’s classified,” the African replied, swirling the ice cubes in his glass.“Somehow, I doubt that you were all injured after joining SWAR,” Moralez said as he narrowed his eyes at the man. “Murphy was a quad, you’re all quads. Seems to me like they only recruit quadruple amputees, am I right? Maybe that’s why I wasn’t invited to the party, I’m one card short of a deck.”They didn’t reply, and Moralez decided to try pressing them a little harder.“Nobody goes straight into the special forces, you were probably Marines first, right? That’s another thing we have in common. Any injuries that you sustained while serving in the Corps won’t be classified. Will you at least tell me what carriers you served on, what campaigns you fought in? Marine to Marine, amputee to amputee...”There was a certain sense of fraternity in the Corps, even more so between amputees. Moralez had never encountered a Marine, former or otherwise, who had no war stories to share with his brothers. It came off more than a little rude, but he was increasingly suspicious that all was not as it seemed.“I served on the UNN Samar,” one of them finally said. This man had a light complexion and an American accent. His hair was shaved, as was common for people who frequently donned helmets. His prosthetic arms were wrapped in Kevlar, which ended at the wrists, leaving his skeletal hands exposed. They were more spartan than Moralez’s, their silver, metal joints gleaming between the black housing that filled out his fingers. “Did three tours, one long-range patrol and two combat missions. The Samar was sent to Kruger to reinforce the Bastogne, I’ve seen Kruger III.”“The Bastogne was my carrier,” Moralez replied with a smile, “you must have arrived shortly after I left. What did you think of Kruger III? Not exactly an ideal place to found a colony, is it?”“I’ll say,” the man chuckled, “nothing but mud and dead trees as far as the eye can see. Anyone who tries to make a go of it there is crazier than we were for fighting over it.”“Gotta uproot the Bugs either way,” one of his friends added, another Australian by the sound of him. They certainly recruited their members from a variety of places.“Yeah, no doubt,” he replied. “But if it’s any consolation, Security Chief, we killed everything bigger than a mud worm on that planet. Never did find the Queen’s chamber in that maze of tunnels, but we cleared most of ‘em out, starved ‘em of resources. When the Drones stop coming to the surface, you know they’re done. No doubt some future colonist will explore the tunnels and find her emaciated corpse, serves the fuckers right.”***If you'd like to support my work or check out more, you can find me on PatreonI also have a websiteI also set up a sub over here
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