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“C - C - S"

by Tagenar (https://twitter.com/tagenarauthor)

#S1e19

*INT – COMMAND DECK / 46939.7, 0800

Major Sela Jar'i adjusted the shawl draped over her shoulders as she rode the lift up to the command deck. The single piece of clothing was traditional for her species, and it only covered her feathers down to mid torso. The white piece of fabric stood in contrast to her blue and green plumage. She wore it purely to denote her rank on the station.

The short ascent ended, and the lift glided to a stop exactly level with the deck. The command deck was accessible only by this lift, presumably in case of a Telosen uprising so the command crew of Atlins would be protected. It only had three rooms, this one, where all the senior staff worked at their stations, and branching off it was a conference room and the commander's office.

Lieutenant Commander Aaza Kas-sti sat at the science station, monitoring the nearby wormhole for vessels entering or leaving it. She wore a green uniform designating her rank and function within the Democratic Union of Planets. The uniform was designed to be anti-static so people covered in fur would be comfortable, and the wolf at the station seemed comfortable enough.

A reptile with black scales and yellow circles around his eyes and mouth lay underneath one of the consoles, a mess of wires and chips on the floor around him. Ihara was in charge of operations on this station, and the task to convert the Atlin systems to Union standards had fallen to him and his team. It was an ongoing process. He had just recently changed the computer voice from a Atlin male to a human female, and Sela welcomed the change.

The doors to the commander's office slid open, and Adrian Blunt stepped onto the command deck.

The wolf glanced to the side. “Commander on deck."

Sela was already standing up straight. “First officer Sela Jar'i reporting for duty, sir."

Commander Blunt looked up from the pad in his hands and nodded. The human wore a red uniform. Their race was one of the founding species of the Democratic Union of Planets, so they were never seen without such a uniform. Being hairless, they needed it more than any other species.

“We're expecting a delegation from Telosen at thirteen hundred hours."

Sela prepared for the worst while hoping for the best. “Government or church?"

The commander smiled. “Neither. I'm told it's more of a tourist group."

“You called it a delegation."

“Technically it counts as one, as they're all veterans of the resistance who received high honors from the council."

“And you want me to give the tour?"

His smile spread to a warm grin. “They would be thrilled to have a fellow resistance fighter leading the way."

“Sure, I can show them were the segregation barrier kept the Telosen workers out of sight of the Atlins and the alien shoppers on the promenade. I can show them where sixteen people were shot to death on suspicion of forming an uprising. I can show them the airlocks where hundreds of Telosen workers were thrown into space for failing to meet quota."

“Exactly," commander Blunt said, strolling up to her. “You know the stories behind every bulkhead. You can make history real. There will be children here. See to it they never forget what happened here."

He handed her the pad. Sela took it from him. Her species' wings had long ago become useless for flight and had developed fingers for grasping. The pad had route suggestions displayed on it, likely made by members of the Telose council. Sela was already thinking of the stories she could tell of this place.

She looked up at him. “I'll do my best, sir."

“Thank you, major. I know you will." He turned and addressed the room. “All right. What's our status?"

Commander Aaza at the science station spoke first. “Wormhole has been rotating at the usual rate. No sign of activity in the last twenty-six hours."

The black reptile spoke from under the console. “Still only about forty percent of the station's corridors have been cleaned up. Sixty percent of the stations computer systems are all in Atlin. You'd think we'd all have learned the language by now as long as we've been staring at it."

Commander Blunt turned to him. “You're doing an excellent job under these circumstances."

“Wish I felt the same, but thank you, sir."

“We're in no rush, and we're ahead of schedule on those conversions. Keep up the good work."

Sela crossed out two of the routes and was already settling on a combination of the first two. She had the stories in mind: the ore processing centers, the noxious gasses, the radiation from the ore, the segregation barrier meant to keep visitors to the station ignorant of it all.

The wolf's console beeped a quiet alert. “Sir, we're receiving a message from an Atalor freighter approaching from Telose. They're requesting permission to dock for resupply and R-and-R."

“Grant them twenty-six hour permission to remain docked at the closest available airlock."

“There's something else, sir. One of their passengers requires treatment for Hagan's syndrome."

Sela looked up from her pad.

“Hagan's?" commander Blunt repeated. “Put the request through to doctor Dorset. Make sure he's ready. Are there any Union records of Hagan's syndrome on the station?"

“I know what it is," Sela said. All heads turned to her. “It comes from inhalation of abrasive, radioactive dust. Only a few hundred Telosen have it, after a mining accident fifteen years ago."

“I see," commander Blunt said.

“I helped liberate that mine six years ago. Anyone who survived that disaster is a hero of Telose. Commander, permission to go to the infirmary. I would like to meet this person."

“Granted. See if you can persuade them to be part of the tour. Or maybe simply say something to the group. If they're feeling up to it."

“Aye, sir. Thank you."

Pad under one wing, Sela turned and stepped onto the lift. She pressed the button, and it descended down to the security corridor. At the door, she leaned forward and let the door scan her retina. With a chime, the door slid to the side, and she stepped out.

*INT – THE PROMENADE

The promenade formed the innermost ring of the station. During the occupation of the planet Telose, the Atlins had left this area open as a public space. Numerous alien species had set up shops here, though at the time the rest of the station would have been off limits to visitors, ensuring people would never have to see what the Atlins were doing here.

Sela narrowed her eyes as she walked along the lower level, glancing at the shops and pondering this whole section was planned to influence public perception of their occupation. How could the stories of slave labor and cruelty possibly be true when all people saw were boutique shops and gambling and happy, smiling Atlins in the corridors? She had still not disassociated smiling with the mouth from Atlin oppression, so meeting humans had been especially difficult for her. Sela's species expressed emotion with the eyes, as their beaks did not move in that way.

Every day she served on this station reminded her of what had happened here, the oppression her people had been under for fifty years, and the effort the Union had made to help them rebuild. The Atlins had mined their minerals for two generations, leaving Telose with nothing but pollution and death. It would likely not recover for a century, even with the aid.

The infirmary was just across the hall from Hadron's bar. Sela spared a glance at the Eneg pouring drinks. Hadron's establishment had been here since the Atlins first opened up the station to visitors and merchants. The rabbit-like creature was a greedy sleazeball, but he knew every species in the quadrant and what kinds of drinks they could tolerate. The bar was busy, even this early in the workday, Hadron keeping it open at all times to cater to nocturnal species.

She peeked through the window on the door. The crew from the freighter had not arrived yet, so Sela climbed the stairs to the second level and observed the people coming and going. It was so hard to believe that only a year ago, this place had been full of slave laborers refining ore taken from mines run by Atlins. The pollution this process generated would have overwhelmed the planet in just a few years, so the Atlins had built this station to vent the radioactive dust and steam into space.

As a member of the resistance, Sela had helped thousands of people escape the mines and pollution. She had also planted bombs and sabotaged shuttles and machines. Anything to make the Atlins' lives hell. It had worked. After fifty years of occupation, facing stern condemnation from outside and violent resistance from the inside, the Atlins abandoned Telose, and thus began the slow healing process, and the equally slow process of converting a former refinery into a space station fit for habitation.

The lift from the crossway descended. Sela leaned on the rail and waited. Moments later, a packed lift ascended. It was full of rough-skinned reptiles from Atalor. Not a single avian from Telose in the group.

One person stood out. A feline. Bipedal. Furless. Bones forming wavy ridges all over the body, puckering the skin into raised ridges all around their heads and necks and arms. Two of the Atalors were helping him walk. A human wearing a Union uniform was walking ahead of them, leading them to the infirmary. The furless feline was hunched over, struggling to breathe.

Sela's eyes widened.

The Atalors branched out across the promenade, and the various shopkeepers trying to get their attention. Many went straight to Hadron's bar. The two reptiles led the limping, wheezing feline to the infirmary.

Sela's eyes narrowed, her kind's equivalent of a frown. She ran down the steps and crossed the corridor. She looked through the window. The feline was sitting on an exam bed, doctor Dorset scanning him with a medical probe.

She pushed the button on the panel, and the door slid to the side. Sela approached, stopping just two meters from the bed, out of the doctor's way. She and the feline locked eyes.

*INT – INFIRMARY

The Atlin continued wheezing.

The human doctor turned around and met Sela's eyes. “Major?"

Sela touched the badge on the left side of her shawl. “Security to the infirmary. We have a war criminal here."

Doctor Dorset turned to his patient, and then back to major Jar'i. “What's going on?"

The Atlin coughed. “Forgive her, doctor. I'm sure it's just a reflex. Telosen tend to have this reaction to seeing Atlins again. She'll calm down once I leave."

Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Don't let this man out of your sight, doctor. This man is a war criminal. He ran a labor camp on Telose and has been missing since the occupation."

The feline on the exam table laughed and coughed. “War criminal? What war?"

The door behind her opened, and in ran constable Cylinder, today choosing to take on the shape of an Atalor reptile but wearing a Telosen shawl to denote his association with the nearby planet rather than the Union. Two members of his security team flanked him, both Telosen. All three carried phase pistols held upwards.

“Major, what's the matter?" Cylinder asked, looking around. He managed to keep his voice the same no matter what form he assumed.

“This Atlin is general Hagan, and he ran the Codiea labor camp during the occupation. He deserves to stand before all of Telose and answer for his crimes."

The security team moved in and helped the feline to his feet.

“I don't believe this. My name is Patal! Patal K'eth! I'm a clerk!"

Constable Cylinder liquefied one of his arms and wrapped it around the Atlin's wrists. “Sir, kindly cooperate while we escort you to the brig and confirm your identity."

The team walked him through the door. Doctor Dorset stood beside Sela.

“Major, are you certain?"

Her eyes were still slits, and she stared at the door. “I'd know that face anywhere. I saw it a thousand times in the resistance. In the resistance, we used general Hagan's face and dozens of others to unite us in our cause. To remind us what we were fighting."

“Well, no disrespect to you, major, but that man has severe respiratory damage and radiation scarring. He needs treatment."

He picked up his scanner and a medical kit and followed the security team out into the promenade. Sela stood in place, breathing through her closed beak.

*INT – BLUNT'S OFFICE

The commander's office was sparse and utilitarian, but commander Blunt had managed to make it look more like a Union readyroom since he took command. The human stood behind his desk, leaning on it.

“You are sure this man is general Hagan?"

“No doubt about it," Sela said. She stood at attention in front of the massive door that led back to the command deck. “Doctor Dorset is working on identification right now. I know his face. The man was so notorious for cruelty the resistance named the condition after him. There is no other way he could have contracted Hagan's syndrome unless he was there at the time. Cylinder can crosscheck with Telosen records."

The security chief was in the room, but now he had taken on the form of a Telosen, but with more muted plumage, denoting his gender.

“Doctor Dorset is collecting blood and scent samples right now. As soon as he has the results I will ask the archives on Telose for access to the relevant records."

“Assuming his DNA and scent profiles are on record," commander Blunt said.

“He claims his name is Patal K'eth," Cylinder said, “and he hasn't done anything wrong. I'll check on that identity as well, though I can't promise anything. Before the Atlins ended the occupation, they destroyed a lot of computer systems as well as physical records. There may be nothing to go on."

“Somebody will have a record of him," Sela said. “Show him to anyone from the resistance, and they'll confirm it." She laughed. “Find a Telosen survivor of that mining accident and they'll tell you who gave it to them. The Atlin who refused to keep that mine safe because the laborers were expendable. The Atlin who let his guards drag anyone they felt out of bed to beat and torture. The Atlin who used dead workers as fuel for the furnace that kept the water pumps running. That was why we used his face to unite our cause! Atlins like that were the people we were fighting."

Commander Blunt sat down and leaned forward on his desk. “I respect that these are still open wounds for you. Save your determination for after a positive ID. In the meantime, we hold him for questioning, and for his protection during his treatment."

Sela's eyes opened wider. “Let me handle this investigation, sir."

“I'm not sure that's a good idea. You're not exactly unbiased."

“If he is who he says he is, then he's free to go. If Lawrence determines he is not, then I will take appropriate action."

“Which includes turning him over to the proper authorities on Telose."

“Of course, sir."

Commander Blunt thought for a moment, and then he looked at Cylinder. “Constable, do you have any objections?"

“None, sir."

“Very well. Keep me informed. Dismissed."

Both avians stepped out of the commander's office and onto the command deck. As Cylinder walked with her, he shifted his form to resemble a bipedal feline, a Atlin, but with indistinct features. He even mimicked their clothing, but it did not hang from him as clothing would. It looked painted directly onto his skin.

He smiled at her with his mouth. Sela felt a twinge.

“You should at least let me conduct the questioning," he said.

Sela narrowed her eyes. “That won't be necessary. I know which questions to ask."

“He might respond better to a fellow Atlin than a Telosen."

“That's the point. I want him to be uncomfortable."

She stepped onto the lift and waited for Cylinder to join her. He remained on the deck, staring at her.

“I will be monitoring the two of you, of course."

“Please do, and be sure to record it. When he cracks, I want it on video."

She pushed the button and descended.

*INT – BRIG

“I don't know what else to tell you," shouted the Atlin from behind the forcefield. “My name is Patal K'eth. I am an educator living on Atalor Prime. What else do you want?"

Sela did not look up from her pad. “What did you do during the occupation?"

“I was a file clerk."

“Did you ever serve at the Sargasha labor camp?"

“Well, yes, I served there for a while."

“You were present during the cave-in that killed more than a hundred workers and left thousands of survivors sick from Hagan's syndrome?"

Patal laughed. “Telosen were not the only ones affected, sadly. Numerous Atlins also fell to it."

“You must have been fairly close to the accident then. Would have been an odd place for a clerk to be. Where were you when the accident happened?"

“I was filing. The dust and radiation spread throughout the vents before the system scrubbed it clean."

“And before the Atlins could be evacuated. That is what happened, isn't it? The Atlin overseers were evacuated first, leaving the Telosen workers down in the mine for hours?"

“A mere matter of logistics. We were closest to the exit."

“Of course you were. Wouldn't want to risk your own skin digging for the minerals you needed to keep up your empire."

“It was simple. We needed what you had. You couldn't stop us, so it only made sense to enlist your help."

“Enlist."

“Well, obviously you weren't doing anything with the resources, so why not take them? As for your people." He laughed and coughed. “What were you doing but worshipping your gods and farming the land, no good to anyone. Putting you to work gave your lives purpose."

“Murdering millions of people certainly shows us your purpose."

“Think about it, major Jar'i. What would you have become had we not arrived? You would have been a farmer or a cleric. That's it. All of your technology goes to one of those two things. We turned you into fighters, and you must admit you are better people for it."

“Stop trying to make it sound like you were some noble quest to reform us. You wanted what we had, and instead of exterminating the population, you made us do the dirty work."

“Do you have any other questions for me, or shall we continue opening old wounds?"

Before Sela could respond, the door behind her opened, and doctor Dorset walked in, holding a pad.

“Doctor."

“You'll want to take a look at this."

She took the pad from him and skimmed it. The first part was a notice from Telose that they had no DNA profile of general Hagan on file. The second part was a memo from the Atlin government that it, too, had no genetic record, only a scent profile, which they had sent to the station. The third part—

Sela stopped reading and looked at the Atlin in the holding cell. She held up the pad and approached the forcefield.

“I guess I can stop calling you Patal now."

“I beg your pardon?"

“Your scent profile matches Hagan's, general. File clerk... You decided to save money by skipping on safety equipment to line your own pocket, and as a result hundreds of people died! You let your guards assault and kill anyone they pleased, and you rewarded them for it!"

“I don't know what you're talking about."

“You made the decision to force Telosen into the most dangerous parts of the mine because they were cheaper than buying machines to work those areas!"

“They were cheaper..." He looked down at the floor. “Telosen... A hundred of them died, you could get another hundred to replace them the next day. Equipment? It cost months' worth of productivity and took just as long to arrive."

“Say it, general!"

“All right! All right!" He stood, threw his arms in the air. “I am general Mishi Hagan! Yes, I am responsible for all those things, and you know what, I wish I had done more! Do you know how many times I objected to the senate about how we were going about this operation? Trying to subjugate the people? Impossible! Just wipe them out! We could have found a way to modify transporters to beam the minerals we needed out of the ground, but the senate insisted we had a moral duty to the inhabitants as well. A moral duty! We had to teach them, show them how to work, how to be productive."

Sela stood nose to nose with the man through the forcefield. “How to accept their enslavement, and when we fought back, you called us terrorists—you tried to convince the entire quadrant we were the aggressors, but they knew better!"

“Exactly my point! The whole occupation was pointless! We should have gotten rid of all of you! So I turned my camp into a place that did just that. A mine designed to eliminate you—a place we could send your people when we wanted you to die, and it became just such a place. I hoped the senate would see the wisdom and make Sargasha a model for how things should be run everywhere. Without a local population, the resources of this planet would be ours for the taking, and nobody could stop us. The Union would never declare war on our empire, the Grovians wouldn't care, nobody would care about people they've never met on some planet at the edge of known space."

Sela felt a hand on her shoulder. “Major, please read the rest of the report."

She backed away from the forcefield and looked at the pad again as the Atlin continued. The report went on. She half read it as she tried to tune out the general's shouting.

“All you had to do was accept us as the superior race, and everything would have been fine. We would have lived in peace and harmony, but no, you people insisted on violence. It was the only thing you understood. Violence and hatred. We tried to show you a better way, but you could not be taught, so why not eradicate the lot of you? Think of all the resources we spent keeping you people in line? How much easier would it have been had we simply wiped the slate clean and perfected machines to do the work? All our problems would have been solved, and Atla would not have had to leave this world in humiliation for failing to convert you. Yes, major, I look back on my time at Sargasha and I regret nobody listened to me! I regret I was not better at politics and forming alliances with powerful people. If I had, I could have changed something, but instead, here we are."

Sela had finished reading. She looked at the man in the cell, eyes wide in bewilderment. She then turned to the doctor, who was gesturing in his human way for her to follow. She followed him to the door, hairless feline with ridged skin shouting behind them.

“That's it, run, major. Run to your new overseer the Union. Things seem different but the Union will try to convert you, too. Convert you into something they can use. Something that benefits themselves. It's how the universe works. You can't resit it forever."

The door closed, and the sound of his voice ceased. She met the human's eyes.

“What is this?"

“It means his scent profile matches, but that's it. There's evidence of cosmetic surgery and an attempt at DNA modification."

“Only an attempt?"

“Remnants of new genome sequences are present in his blood and tissue, but they did not take hold. The surgery must have come after."

Sela glimpsed constable Cylinder approaching. He had taken the form of a human, complete with a Union uniform painted on.

“So?" Sela said. “Is he general Hagan or not?"

“That's the tricky part," doctor Dorset answered. “We still can't be sure."

“Then who is he?!"

The constable now stood with them. “I may have an answer to that." Both Sela and the doctor turned to him. “I was able to get access to some public records. General Hagan was on Atla at the time of the mining accident."

“Well there must be a mistake," Sela said. “That man in there just confessed to being general Hagan."

“The records also show general Hagan died on Atla four years ago."

“You trust their records of the occupation of my planet?"

“Not entirely, but it does complicate things."

“They'll do anything to cover up their crimes."

“Indeed they will," said the doctor. “Nevertheless, I'm not convinced the man we're holding is general Hagan."

“Neither am I," Cylinder said.

“He has to be!"

The doctor looked over his shoulder at the door to the brig. “Well, it looks as if we've got ourselves a long, complicated investigation here, full of twists and turns, and commander Blunt is probably dealing with the Atla government right now, trying to buy us time while we find answers."

The shapeshifter looked off to the side and stared into empty space. “Perhaps not."

The other two faced him. Cylinder continued.

“The Atlin records do show that general Hagan visited this station when it was still a refinery, and that he gave patronage to a particular shop on the promenade. That shop is still here, and I believe the proprietor may be able to help us identify our detainee."

Sela's eyes widened. “Who?"

*INT – PAUL'S SHOP

The digital sign over the sliding door flashed three characters in five successive languages—the five most common in the quadrant: Atlin, Grovian, Stozi, Telosen, and finally the most common Union language.

C - C - S

The shapeshifter stood next to her, liquid arms looped around Patal K'eth's wrists. The hairless feline was clearly confused, as his tail hung straight down, and he was looking around.

The solid portion of Cylinder's body now resembled the flat-faced, quadrupedal Stozi, who regarded emotion as something to stamp out of their society for the sake of social order, so they cut off their children's muzzles and tails at birth, depriving them of their usual means of expressing emotion. Seeing the Stozi language must have made him shift subconsciously.

“You never noticed this place before?" the constable asked.

“I've seen it, but I never thought to look inside."

“You never wondered what the sign was advertising or noticed what sort of clients come here? You never wondered what they buy?"

“No."

“Well, I should warn you, it can be a bit shocking. It's not the sort of place for... For a..."

“Hmm?"

“What I'm trying to say is... Never mind. Just be ready to see some unsavory things. Trust me when I say if anyone can tell us who he is, Paul can. Don't tell him who we suspect him of being."

“Unsavory?"

Constable Cylinder led their feline to the door. Sela walked up next to him and pushed the button on the panel to open the door. A moment later, the door slid open. Sela did not have as keen a sense of smell as some others, but even she could smell Patal's unease as they parted the curtain hanging in front of the door.

Beyond the veil stretched a mostly empty space. Only four pieces of furniture on top of black carpet, two beds from Telose and one chair from Grovi, which sat four people. The lighting was dimmed to sixty percent.

Behind the fourth piece of furniture, a desk of Atlin design, sat a bipedal creature. His front was covered in smooth, green scales. His back half was covered in red fur. He rose from the chair, which looked like it was from Eneg, and stepped aside from it. Sela stared.

The half-mammal, half-canine was not wearing any clothes, and his testicles and sheath looked out of proportion to the rest of his body. They belonged on a canine, and yet they were covered in lizard scales. The solid green ended at his genitals, and his oversized sheath and testicles had a chessboard pattern made up of white and green scales. The pattern drew the eye straight to them.

Constable Cylinder released Patal and reformed his arms, painted clothes and all. “Major, this is Paul."

“Charmed... How can he help us?"

“Paul, we have an unusual request for you."

The mammal/lizard wagged his fluffy tail. “I like unusual requests."

His voice sounded dreamy. Sela wondered if he was using illicit substances.

“We need your help identifying this Atlin. He claims to be someone who once visited your establishment years ago. We haven't been able to confirm his identity one way or another, but I believe you can."

“If he's been here before, I will recognize him."

Paul approached, his oversized sheath and testicles shaking and bouncing every step. His legs were digitigrade, like a canine, and yet he looked like a lizard from the front. His muzzle was long and pointed like canine but covered in scales. His ears were triangular, like a canine's, but covered in fur.

Sela looked at their detainee. He was sweating. She partially winked one eye, the Telose gesture for a smile.

Paul walked a little like a lizard, arms folded in front of himself. He stood in front of Patal and scented him. “Hmmm, he smells familiar." He leaned down to his chest. “Yes, I recognize the scent. " He circled Patal, scenting his neck, then down his back and ending at the rear. He straightened up and flowed around to Patal's front side, snout to face with him.

Patal steeled himself in the face of a scaled fox. “My name is—"

Constable Cylinder nudged him. “Let Paul tell us your name."

Patal grumbled and faced the shopkeeper. “Fine. Whatever you need to do to confirm my identity, do it."

Paul flicked his tongue across Patal's nose. He had a forked tongue in the shape of a canine's.

“Undo your pants."

Patal's muzzle curled into a smile. Major Sela's smile dropped and now her eyes were wide. To her surprise, Patal was doing it. At first she looked away, but then she heard Paul moving, and she had to turn around.

The mammal/canine was sucking the furless feline off, eyes closed. Patal seemed to have forgotten where he was and was enjoying the moment. She looked at Cylinder. The constable was watching with detached interest. She saw his shape waver just a little, as if trying to mimic Paul's form, and then he caught himself and shifted to a Telosen again, plumage muted and dull under a shawl. Sela smiled again as she thought about the constable feeling self conscious remaining in the form of an Atlin.

She turned back to Paul and their detainee. Ignoring what he was doing, Sela could tell he was not merely sucking Patal. After less than a minute with his muzzle wrapped around the feline's sex organ, Paul released him and rose to meet the Atlin's eyes.

“Why did you do this yourself?"

Patal was panting through his nose.

Cylinder liquefied his arm and looped it around Patal's wrists. “Can you tell us who he is?"

“I'll show you. Wait here, please."

Paul turned and walked to a door at the rear of the room. He scanned his retina, the door slid to the side, and Paul disappeared through it, leaving Sela and Cylinder to stare at Patal's throbbing erection.

Sela had never seen an Atlin's penis before. It was thin and pointed and had four fleshy barbs, one at each compass point. They looked like pieces of rounded bone poking out. It looked nothing like a Telosen's. He stood at full mast, patiently waiting for Paul to return. He did not soften.

Sela looked ahead at the open door. Humming sounds came from in there, along with the smell of polymer.

A few minutes later, Paul walked out, the door sliding shut behind him. He was holding two rolled-up discs of a rubberlike substance. He paused, looking at each of them in turn, standing birdlike.

“Your Atlin is one of two people. Both of them visited my shop years ago, and I still have their patterns on file." He held one of the rubber discs up. “General Hagan." He held the other one up. “Patal K'eth. Shall we find out which one fits?"

The Atlin was sweating, but he still had not gone soft.

Sela nodded. “Do it."

Paul approached the detainee and knelt. He placed the disc over the tip of his throbbing organ. Sela noticed the glowing blue line on the disc. The mammal/reptile was lining it up with the top center. He then rolled it down to the base.

Paul dropped his hands and observed. “I thought so. General Hagan's was smaller, and note the position of the spurs."

Sela and Cylinder both leaned over and observed. Not only were there bulges of extra polymer where spurs should have been, but they were not even the correct shape.

Paul peeled it off and set it on the floor. He then positioned the second disc over the member. It was seeping liquid. Paul leaned over and licked it off before applying the disc. He unrolled it. It practically unrolled itself, each spur finding a perfect home underneath a perfectly-conformed bulge in the polymer, not a wrinkle anywhere on the shaft.

Paul looked up at him. “Patal K'eth, you changed your scent, but you did not change this. Why would you want everyone to think you're general Hagan?"

The constable began pulling him toward the door. “We'll question him now."

“Wait, wait!" Paul said, running after them. He knelt in front of Patal, nuzzling his member. “It's been so long since I felt an Atlin inside me. I enjoyed yours more than general Hagan."

“We don't have time for this," Sela said.

Paul waved his tail about. “In my shop, my client decides what he wants to do once he has one of my devices on, and he is a paying client."

Sela narrowed her eyes and looked at the constable. He relaxed his liquid grip on Patal and formed his arm again. Sela couldn't believe he was yielding to this creature, and to her surprise, Patal stepped forward and nudged the mammal/lizard onto his back.

He shoved himself in with very little effort, and without any kind of obvious lubricant, Sela noticed. Paul sprawled out.

“Oooooohaah, I always enjoyed those spurs. They feel so good in me."

~[sex]

Patal pulled out, polymer wrapping ballooned with seed. He rolled over, completely spent. Paul lowered his legs and panted, tail beating the floor.

“General Hagan," Patal began. “He needs to stand trial. He needs to face his crimes. Do you have any idea what it was like in that camp, listening to the screams, watching people die, being evacuated knowing the people who needed to leave were still in there? Knowing you're just a clerk and can't do anything about it? Atlina destroyed all the records. If Hagan were alive, there would be no evidence against him. No evidence but the survivors. The quadrant needs to know what he did. Everyone needs to know what we did! As a clerk I could do nothing, but as general Hagan, I could make a difference. I could change something."

Sela knelt beside Patal as he peeled off the polymer sleeve. He dropped the little bag of grey seed on the floor beside him. Paul had not moved. He was spent, and yet he had not finished.

“You were caught in the system."

“Let me stand trial for general Hagan! Nobody has to know who I am. Let me be the face of what my people did to you. It will force Atlin to admit its crimes. It has to. The performance I gave in the brig is just a taste of the things I heard Hagan say—I will tell everyone what that man said."

“Someone will see through it," Sela said, helping Patal to his feet. He was pulling his pants up. “Then there will be backlash. You'll have to find another way to make a difference. Come on. We'll have a drink at Hadron's. Let's talk."

Now decent again, Sela and Cylinder led him out. The constable did not have to bind his hands anymore. Sela remained behind as the other two walked out.

“Thanks for your help."

“Any time." Dreamy voice again.

“Why Paul?"

“It's what people started calling me, so I started answering to it."

“And... what does CCS stand for?"

“Custom Condom Shop, the most comfortable contraceptives in the quadrant."

Sela partially winked one eye. “Next time I hook up with someone, I'm bringing him here. With all the people coming through the wormhole, who knows what they're bringing with them."

“Wormhole?"

“Yes, the wormhole."

He turned to her, mouth open, tongue hanging out and touching the carpet.

“You haven't heard? It's been open for months."

He did not react.

Sela's feathers flared and settled. “It leads to the third quadrant of the galaxy. Unknown space. We've already made contact with a dozen new species from the other side. Telose has a colony over there."

He continued looking at her dreamily.

She went on. “Ihara helped someone from over there escape predators."

“He did?"

“It triggered a station-wide alert. You can't tell me you didn't hear."

He curled up and sighed. “I've been in here. I only hear what people tell me."

She stared at him for a moment. “You should probably ask your clients to keep you informed. A lot's happened on this station since the Union took command of it."

Paul rolled to his side, facing her, chessboard sheath and testicles squished between his legs. “Doesn't really matter to me."

“Well, I promise to send them your way if need be."

He was panting heavily, oversized junk jiggling. “Please do. I love taking new clients."

She partially winked the other eye and then followed the constable and the feline onto the promenade.

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