Rika Rising
Page 13
Arla arched a brow. “But ‘queen’?”
“Has a certain ring to it, don’t you think?” Tremon’s face split into a grin. “And we’re in no place to have Genevia-wide elections.”
Oda’s customary grimace deepened. “For all intents and purposes, this is Genevia.”
“I think the people of Blue Ridge, Iberia, and by this point, Parsons, would all disagree with that. They were liberated before Genevia, so why would they have no voice in this?”
Arla and Oda shared a look before Arla spoke. “Because this is the capital.”
“The capital of what?” Rika asked. “The only reason Genevia was freed before a host of other systems was because the Nietzschean emperor was here. And he was here because of the Capeton shipyards. None of this had anything to do with Genevia being inherently special—politically speaking, that is.”
“Surely you can’t be serious,” Arla said, rising to the bait. “There is huge significance to freeing the Genevia System. I can’t believe that someone who has made it as far as you wouldn’t be able to see that.”
“I see that it’s a big symbol to you,” Rika replied. “But I grew up far from here, was enslaved by people who ruled from here, and then was their slave in a war that they botched and lost.”
Tremon looked uncomfortable at Rika’s words, and she wished that they didn’t include him in their accusations, but they did. There was nothing either of them could do about that part of their respective pasts.
“I wouldn’t say we botched—” Arla began, but Rika interrupted her.
“Are you going to look at what my Marauders have done in the past year and tell me that the GAF used us properly during the war? Because I’ll tell you this, if I had been in command, we would never have lost. Genevia would have defeated Nietzschea, without a doubt.”
A look of innocence settled on Oda’s face. “The man responsible for all of that sits beside you.”
Rika shrugged. “He apologized, and I believe him.”
“And yet you blame us.” Oda spoke the words as a statement, not a question.
“I think that’s your guilt speaking.” Rika fixed him with a steely-eyed stare. “What I was getting at was not that I have a list of people to blame, but that Genevia holds no special place in my heart.”
A scowl settled on Arla’s brow. “Well, you’re going to have to forgive us for being a bit nervous talking to a woman who is carrying enough weaponry to kill us a dozen times over.”
Rika laughed. “That must be a part of why we lost the war—you don’t have the most basic understanding of a mech’s abilities. My weapons could kill you a thousand times over.”
“OK,” Tremon’s tone was mollifying. “None of us are here to do harm to the others, but let’s set aside that talk.”
“Fine.” Oda nodded. “Then we can discuss the interim government that will take care of Genevia until such time as we can hold elections.”
“I’ll listen to your thoughts,” Rika replied with a casual swipe of her hand. “But we already have our own plans in motion.”
As Oda launched into a spiel about how he and Arla were uniquely qualified to manage Genevia’s affairs, Rika reached out to Leslie.
* * * * *
“OK,” Leslie addressed her team after closing the connection with Rika. “Our baddies are in here somewhere. They’ve got the signal trigger, so we just have to find them, disable it, and then we can go for hot dogs.”
“Wait, Captain,” Kor held up a hand. “Why hot dogs? I like burgers.”
Leslie shrugged. “It just sounded good. You can have a burger if you want.”
“Awesome, I—”
“Kor, would you shut up,” Sergeant Alison grunted. “Just cover Jenisa’s six, or I’ll make you eat your own hot dog.”
He cocked his head, and Leslie knew he was grinning. “I’d rather have Fred’s hot dog.”
Fred slapped away Kor’s outstretched hand. “You touch my hot dog, and I’ll cut off your hand and swap it out for a toaster.”
“I’d rather have a pot for boiling hot dogs.”
“Wait,” Jenisa shook her head. “I thought you preferred burgers?”
“Damn, I do.”
Jenisa clapped a hand on his shoulder. “And now you’re gonna eat Fred’s dick.”
“Like hell he is.”
“People,” Alison hissed. “Can we focus?”
“I’d just like to say,” Randy chimed in, “that I’m a vegetarian. But Fred’s hot dog doesn’t have any meat, so I think I could eat it in a pinch.”
“Maybe a corndog,” Kor mused.
Alison took a step toward him, and he backed away.
“OK, OK. Sorry, Sarge. Just having a little fun.”
“Yeah, well, go have fun on the route I assigned you. Wait…no. No fun. None of you have any fun. Just do your damn jobs.”
The four mechs in the fireteam split up, moving out of the small loading bay and into the building beyond. Kor was still laughing softly, and Leslie couldn’t help smiling along with him.
“I love working with your team, Alison. I’m really glad you didn’t all die back at Iberia.”
“Uhh…thanks? I think?”
“Kidding, Alison. Well, about joking about you dying. Not about working with your team.”
The sound of a low sigh came from the SMI-4. “Well, someone has to.”
“The words of someone who needs a vacation, I think.”
“What?” Alison lifted a hand to her shoulder and checked a charge cylinder pouch. “I suppose, maybe. It’s just hard being in Genevia—especially on Belgium.”
“Is it?” Leslie asked. “Why?”
“It’s where I was mechanized,” the SMI-4 said with a shrug. “It’s nuts. I’ve walked battlefields where comrades have fallen, and not been as fazed as I am just sharing a planet with the facility that turned me into a mech.”
“OK…that is a bit odd.” Leslie’s tail whipped from side to side as she considered the rationale behind the sergeant’s statement.
“Sheesh, Captain, I was looking for support.”
“Oh! Sorry, at first, I thought this was the ‘here be the crucible that forged me’ speech. I’m still catching up.”
Alison snorted. “Barne’s wearing off on you.”
“Hey,” Leslie growled. “That’s not the sort of thing you say to your CO.”
“You’re not my CO. Captain Chase is.”
“Yeah, well, I used to be, so don’t forget it.”
Neither woman spoke for several minutes, watching the feeds on their HUDs, which showed
the two teams moving around the perimeter of the building’s first floor while drones began to sweep through the interior.
It was most likely that their target was on an upper floor, but they needed to ensure that each level was clear—or at least flag any enemies—before climbing to the next.
In all honesty, the mission wasn’t that important in Leslie’s eyes. Worst-case scenario, a broadcast would go out informing the system that Oda was the leader of Genevia, and Rika would counter that with a simple message that Belgium was the capital and to continue to direct requests through her.
It would have been nice if they’d already been able to perform the complex dance that David, Niki, and Piper had worked out, but it was still in progress—though by day’s end, Vargo Klen should be in command of a host of ships that had been captured in the battle or taken from the shipyards. Once that happened, a smooth progression of events would lead to Rika’s inevitable assumption of power.
“What do you think Rika really makes of all this?” Alison asked.
“You reading my thoughts?”
“I suspect it’s what every Marauder is thinking already. We all want to keep Rika as our old lady. Being queen suits her, so long as she gets to remain the warrior as well.”
Leslie remembered the first time she’d laid eyes on Rika. The woman had been shipped to Berlin in a cryo tube, and it had been up to the members of Team Basilisk to reassemble her, which they had, only to learn that she’d been purchased at auction.
Leslie had never told Rika, but when the woman’s blue eyes had first snapped open in that cryo tube, they’d been filled with fear, loathing, and regret. These had been replaced with anger and a fire that only Rika possessed, but one that had lessened over time.
Even her personal growth is inspiring.
“I guess you’re right,” she finally replied to the SMI-4. “Rika’s our warrior queen. Accept no substitute.”
Leslie tapped the private’s feed and saw that she’d come upon a makeshift comm array near the northeast corner of the building.
Leslie sent him a feed of the comm array, while Alison asked,
An explosion rocked the building, and Leslie swore as the two rushed inside.
* * * * *
“…so you see, that’s why we need to restructure the military complex to support that type of defense buildup.” Arla spoke the words slowly, as though she were instructing children. “Does that make sense?”
Rika resisted the urge to nod.
Piper joined in the conversation.
Rika could feel Tremon stiffen at her side, and she glanced at him. He was still talking with Arla and Oda as though nothing was wrong, but there was a tightness around his eyes.
Rika’s lips pressed together, almost disappearing entirely.
His apology sounded heartfelt, but she still couldn’t help but feel a hint of betrayal that he’d never mentioned anything about the KK100 devices.
When she didn’t reply, he added,
Rika and Tremon had shared their last few thoughts privately, and she quickly addressed Leslie and Piper, who she knew would be waiting.
Piper sent what he likely thought was a throat-clearing sound, but which came across more like a chair being dragged across the floor.
Leslie sent a ‘hold’ signal over the Link, and Rika turned her focus back to Arla and Oda, trusting her team to do their jobs without her mothering them.
Rika suppressed a groan.
Something in the AI’s tone set Rika to wondering if there was a double meaning she didn’t quite grasp. Then Oda drew her attention with an especially ridiculous statement.
“It would be best for the Genevian people if you stood down, Rika, and turned over command of your mechs to a proper military authority.”
She didn’t even bother holding in the laugh that burst past her lips. “Are you serious? Is there something in the water
the servitor brought you?”
Oda’s ever-present frown deepened. “Yes, I am serious. So far as the GAF is concerned, you are not an officer. You cannot command your forces.”
Rika leant forward, knowing the menace her armored and armed body portrayed with such a gesture. “Oda. There is no GAF. At present, I represent a mercenary company that is employed by the Scipio Alliance to defeat the Nietzscheans. I’m a Theban citizen—all my mechs were granted citizenship there after we helped save them from the Niets. That means I’m not under your jurisdiction in any way, shape or form.”
“But you’re Genevian,” Oda protested.
“There is no Genevia.” Tremon’s voice was calm and measured. “At least, not yet.”
“What do you mean by that?” Oda demanded of Tremon, as predicted.
The former president shrugged. “I just mean that there’s no actual nation yet. No one is legally a Genevian citizen. We’re also going to need to think of what to do regarding people who were born in Old Genevia during the Nietzschean occupation. Are they Genevian? Does parentage denote citizenship for those people? The letter of the law—the laws we had, at least—was not entirely clear on situations like that.”
“We have enough to go on,” Oda replied. “And don’t forget, The Refuge maintained a government in absentia during the occupation, which is why it makes the most sense to officially declare it to be the interim government.”