The mutated shape-shifter offers no resistance. Ki-Ton grows a second pair of arms, crossing them in order to pin down and choke the elongated thorax of his opponent.
“I’ve nothing to offer you. My wounds don’t heal anymore. Don’t hurt…I know not where our home planet was.”
“The third hydra constellation, did they find you there?”
“Sulmartin was actually a much grander empire than history recorded. It seems more species engaged in their illicit practices than admit to it. I became quite a salesman. Being able to transform into representatives from every race we dealt with.”
“Constant transformations weaken us. You were shorting your own life span.”
“Don’t release them.”
“I’ve no plans to release them. Of the nine of us I’ve encountered, another attempted to steal my abilities and use them to extend his own life. I’ve been searching for our home planet ever since. I’ll absorb each one of them in turn and continue to exist.”
“We don’t know how long we drifted in space before the nine capsules were ejected from orbit. Take me with you. I’ll assist in finding them.”
“You’ve one use left.” Ki-Ton sinks his fingers into the creature’s chest. He pushes past the soft tissue. A green goop oozes around his arm. Ki-Ton crunches what would be a rib in most humanoids.
“Brother, please! I can’t heal!” He struggles to escape his imprisonment.
“Despite being unable to learn the location of our home world, I discovered certain enzymes prolong our abilities. I think our planet was ripe in such chemicals.” Ki-Ton wraps his fingers around the chimera’s heart. “Returning there should restore our natural gifts.”
In a last desperate attempt to save his life, the chimera pleads, “They found my life pod in Golandres system. I was being pulled toward the gravity well of the fifth planet during the Sulmartin season of the snow bear.”
“Given a dozen other planets did change your trajectory, I might narrow it down a bit if I knew how long you floated before they found you.” More green coagulating goop rolls from the wound. Ki-Ton draws back his arm, bringing the heart with it.
“Returning home will restore both our abilities.”
“It could take me years to find the home world, and I won’t end as you have. I find the enzyme in some species, but never in enough quantity to restore me. Your heart will keep me from turning into you.”
••••••
KI-TON OPERATES FROM a control station. The image on the main view shifts from the encroaching solar system and pulls back to a larger view of thousands of stars. The crew awaits his debriefing.
“This is what I’ll share from the operative on the surface. Most of what we pass around as fact on the Throgen Empire is actually theory and board speculation. Conservative estimates. We know little about this Empire infringing on the edge of known space.” He raises his right hand gloved in sensors that work like a computer mouse.
A bulky red line draws around a large section of stars. “The Tri-Star Federation.”
Ki-Ton flicks his pinky finger. A blue, much smaller line draws around stars adjacent to the Federation. “The United Confederation of Planets.” He swirls his pinky again, and a green line draws around a group of stars just above the UCP territory. “Tibbar-controlled systems.” With an air tap of his third finger, three rectangular boxes flash yellow, each with one end overlapping the Federation border. “It seems that whoever controls the Throgen Empire thinks they own the entire galaxy. This mysterious ruling class behaves much like a feudal system delegating sections of space to a General, who controls each assigned section however they wish, as long as they pay tributes and taxes.”
“Explains why Throgen battle tactics shift in each one of those sections,” Amye says.
“If the Mokarran were to pull back and abandon those planetary systems at the tips of those rectangles, the Throgen Empire would cease any attacks on them?”
“A lot of planetary systems to just relent.”
“Until they assigned a new General to a new square inside Federation space,” Ki-Ton says.
“How long?” Australia asks.
“This was all I learned about Throgen practices. My contact served another purpose.”
“It’s more than we knew before,” Reynard says.
“It doesn’t explain why the Empire involved itself during the Battle of the Twin Suns. A system beyond any of the territory Throgen claims to own.”
“Those studying their tactics are unable to figure out their battle strategies,” Amye remarks. “With multiple Generals allowed free reign, no wonder tactics make no sense.”
Australia points out, “Presuming how each individual General operates could change Mokarran defense tactics as well.”
“The Mokarran won’t listen to our findings. Let them fall. The only good Mokarran’s a dead one,” Scott sneers.
“The Mokarran stand between UCP and defeat at the hands of the Empire. When they expand again—”
“Why is there a solar system unclaimed by any of the four dominions?” Doug breaks his silence.
“Sulera. It seems to be functioning as a natural neutral trading world where all four ascendancies conduct business.”
“Quite profitable until the Throgen Empire claims their next section of space,” Doug says.
“Putting them into the heart of the Tibbar Empire.”
“Those lizards may be more willing to return to the negotiation table.”
“I hate politics,” Reynard mumbles.
Ki-Ton ends his presentation. “I’ll pass this and the other information to Admiral Maxtin allowing his experts to reanalyze Throgen tactics.” He struggles with remaining the dutiful crew member while needing to escape his team’s curiosity. His time on Delnes Prime serves personal purpose, and he must analyze what he learned—alone.
“I MUST COMPLETE my hibernation, Commander.”
“Get enough rest, Ki-Ton. We’ll return to the UCP in order for you to make your report to the Admiral in person.” Reynard waits until the dismissed alien has left his bridge. “Aus, set a course for UCP territory.”
“We get ordered into Throgen space in order for
