by M. D. Cooper
I suppose that’s what happens when a spy sinks her hooks into your brain and turns you into an assassin.
Just the thought of that terrible day almost brought a waking nightmare upon Fiona. She had some of the best mental and cranial protection money could buy; her mind should have been perfectly secure. But that spy from Orion had slipped past Fiona’s defenses like they weren’t even there, and in that singular moment, everything the prelate believed in had crumbled around her.
She’d thought herself unassailable, rising toward ultimate power as she circled Diana’s throne, waiting for the right time to strike. But instead she’d discovered that, to the truly powerful, she was as vulnerable as the lowest servitor tech—perhaps more, given the target her rank painted on her back.
I don’t believe that I’ve ever once wished to be a nobody—until now.
The fish in the pond had no answers for Fiona, and she carried on, walking around the still waters to a small bridge that carried her over a stream and down a path weaving ever deeper into the wooded garden.
The problem Fiona faced was that there was no easy way to extricate herself from her position—other than simply fleeing the empire for some distant locale. Even then, it might be worth it for some enterprising upstart to hunt her down, if for nothing else than access to the secrets she knew.
Equally impossible was moving up. Long had she coveted Diana’s throne, but now she knew the empress’s position to be unassailable, what with her powerful new allies.
Even if the empress had been vulnerable, Fiona no longer desired the throne—especially not the risk that came with it.
Not for the first time, she wondered if some lingering damage had been done to her mind by the spy, or through the repairs made to her brain by the Transcend’s doctors. The degree to which her outlook had changed seemed too extreme to only be the result of someone else temporarily taking over her mind and body.
Or I’ve just been a myopic idiot my entire life.
“Nice day for a walk,” a voice said from her left, and Fiona spun to see a figure in the shadows beneath a willow tree.
A moment later, two of her guards appeared on the path, one ahead, one behind, sidearms trained on the newcomer.
“Show yourself,” Fiona demanded, mustering steel for her voice despite the fact that she felt none of it.
“Relax,” the person said, pushing aside the tree’s drooping branches and stepping onto the path a few meters in front of her. “I just want to have a conversation with you.”
The man wore a simple black tunic and pants, unadorned in any way. His movements were simple yet graceful, hinting at a danger his casual stance belied.
Fiona’s guards picked up on the sub rosa threat, another six of them appearing on the path. George, the leader of her detail, sent Fiona a worried message.
She followed George’s advice, and the man chuckled.
“I’m unarmed, you know. Have your guards search me.”
“That Orion spy wasn’t armed either when she turned me into her puppet.”
The man nodded sagely. “Yes, nasty business that. I’m sorry it happened to you.”
Something in his inflection caused Fiona to suspect that he would have done it differently if he’d had the opportunity. The knowledge that the simple-looking man before her could be yet another Orion spy set her heart pounding in her chest—a reaction quickly countered by her mods, which worked to present a calm exterior.
“Thanks for your condolences,” she replied without a trace of emotion. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to continue my walk.”
“It wasn’t easy meeting up with you privately like this, Prelate. I’d appreciate it if I could say my piece.”
He didn’t make a move to stop her, but something in his tone stayed her feet. She suspected that brushing him off would only bring about his return at a less opportune time.
“Fine.”
“We need to speak privately. May I initiate a direct Link?”
George glanced at Fiona from where he stood on her right and shook his head.
A slow nod of the head was all the response her team lead gave, and then Fiona accepted the direct Link beamed through the air from the mysterious man.
he said once the channel was established.
Fiona couldn’t help but laugh aloud.
Fiona pursed her lips and nodded impatiently.
“Not having this conversation, is what,” George muttered, and Shadow’s gaze snapped to the guard.
“You don’t seem to know the meaning of ‘private’, Prelate.”
Fiona shrugged. “George is right. I want no part in whatever you’re up to. Goodbye.”
She turned to walk away, a feeling of danger and vulnerability nearly crippling her mind—one that had visited her far too often, since that fateful night several weeks ago.
“He’s moving off,” George said quietly as he took up a position behind Fiona to shield her body.
“Good,” she replied. “I assume you’re trying to find out who he was?”
“And who he works for,” her guard replied. “Though thus far, his name is very apt. I can’t find a damn thing about him.”
Fiona nodded silently, and a thought that had never before entered her mind settled into place.
Perhaps I should warn the empress….
THINLY VEILED
STELLAR DATE: 10.06.8948 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Imperial Palace
REGION: Alexandria, Bosporus System, Scipio Empire
“Have him shown in,” Diana replied to the AI as she straightened her skirts and flipped her hair over her shoulder.
The ASN Coalition had been a thorn in Diana’s side for some time, but they’d recently elevated themselves to full-on pain in the ass. The ASN and Scipio had always been uneasy allies at best, both eyeing the other over the Fringe stars that lay between them.
Now that Diana had forged an alliance with the Transcend, the ASN representatives had become even more agitated, agonizing over every sentence in the accord that Diana had drawn up with President Tomlinson.
She didn’t know what this latest imagined injustice would be, but she was eager to get the conversation started so she could end it and move on to other matters.
Like dinner tonight.
The empress chided herself for the errant thought as Head Ira walked into the audience chamber. It wasn’t one of her larger throne rooms, but it was still imposing, lined with Impera Protego who stared at the delegate as he walked toward the throne, stopping a safe five meters from the steps.
“Empress Diana.” He bowed, his torso bending forward until it was perfectly perpendicular to the ground. He stayed that way for exactly three seconds before straightening. “Thank you for seeing me.”
“It’s getting to be such a common occurrence that perhaps I should get you a little stool down there.”
Not for the first time, Diana reflected on how very interesting it was to share her cranium with an AI that was not from Scipio; one who treated her as an equal rather than an empress. Even so, she still wasn’t certain whether or not it had been the best idea.
While Tenna had been quite amused by Diana’s offer of getting the delegation head a stool, Ira was not nearly as pleased—something that was only indicated by a momentary furrowing of his brow before he replied.
“Of course, Empress Diana. If it pleases you, may I address a concern I have rising from your accord with the Transcend?”
“You may,” Diana replied equably.
She knew that the ASN delegation had reviewed the accord in great detail before it had been ratified, and that President Tomlinson of the Transcend had even met with them to discuss the particulars. Despite that, the delegation was continually ‘discovering’ new issues tucked away in the details of the document.
“We were reviewing the mandates regarding the Silstrand Alliance…”
Ira let the words hang as though that should be enough for Diana to understand his issue.
“There are two whole sections addressing Silstrand, and other Fringe alliances in similar positions,” Diana said. “Be more specific.”
“The timeline,” Ira clarified, his tone indicating that it should have been obvious.
“Foooor?” Diana drew the word out, not bothering to hide her annoyance.
A look of consternation crossed Ira’s face, an obvious affectation. “You’ve mandated that Silstrand must bring all Fringe systems between Gedri and the Velorum Rift into their alliance within two years. By force if necessary.”
“I have,” Diana replied. “It was a non-negotiable part of the agreement—a section that President Tomlinson did not contest in the least.”
“That grants Silstrand a vast swath of territory right at the intersection of Scipio, the ASN, and the Hegemony,” Ira explained, saying the words slowly, as though Diana did not understand the implication.
She nodded. “I noticed that. It’s going to set them up to be an important trading partner of ours.”
“Yet just two months ago, you had a fleet en route to Silstrand space with the clear intent of absorbing their star systems.” Ira let the words fall without preamble, his tone level and carrying no accusation.
And there we have it, Diana thought. The thing he’s been hedging around all this time. I’m surprised it took so long.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the empress replied, squaring her shoulders as she looked down at the man.
“You’re denying that your 101st Fleet was en route to Gedri with a goal of taking that system and then moving into the rest of Silstrand?”
“I can promise you that such was not the intent of the 101st Fleet’s actions.” Diana’s tone was resolute, no hint of a lie in her words.
Mostly because Ira had missed the mark, and the empress’s denial wasn’t even a lie.
Her fleet had been headed for Gedri, of course, but their orders had not been to ‘take’ the system—especially because she’d already done so by getting a Scipian spy voted in as its leader. The real price had been the technology hidden there, technology she now possessed as a result of the alliance with the Transcend.
Of course, that technology transfer was stipulated within an addendum that the ASN Coalition knew nothing about.
“Then what was that fleet movement for?” Ira asked.
“Head Ira.” Diana sat forward on her throne, fixing the man with her baleful gaze. “I am not beholden to you in any way. I do not have to explain my fleet’s actions to a foreign entity. If I wish to fly every Scipian ship around Bosporus in concentric rings, that is my business and none of the ASN’s.”
Ira reddened, and Diana let a few unflattering thoughts about him being the red Head of the ASN delegation pass through her mind while she waited for his response.
“And if the ASN feels threatened by Silstrand’s actions?”
Ira managed to school his expression so well that Diana wondered if his visible annoyance had been a show.
“The ASN would do well to remember that Silstrand is now an ally of Scipio’s. Their delegate here signed the accord, and by now, their president will have as well. They are under the protection of the Alliance. Would you like to test our resolve so soon?”
Ira’s eyes narrowed at her words and he took half a step forward. “Do you really think that you can press the Hegemony and threaten us at the same time? You’ll be stretched thin. Weak.”
Diana was on her feet in an instant, halfway down her dais’s steps in another. Each of the Impera Protego’s weapons were shouldered and aimed at Head Ira before the empress reached the throne room’s floor. She stopped two meters from the man, her head several centimeters over his as she centered her rage-filled glare on the delegate.
“Are you threatening the Scipian Empire?” Her words came softly, a barely audible utterance breathed on quiet winds of fury. “What would your Congregate think if your words set Scipian warships razing ASN worlds beyond the Fringe?”
The man took a step back, clearly not expecting so much vehemence in her response. As he stammered, Tenna gave a soft whistle in Diana’s mind.
The AI didn’t respond for a moment, then said,
“I would never suggest something so outrageous,” Ira finally said, taking a step back, his gaze darting to the Impera Protego lining the room, breathing a sigh of relief as their weapons lowered.
“Good.” Diana continued to look down her nose at the man. “From this day forward, know that you live only because you know your place. The ASN is nothing more than a loose conglomeration of system-states. Your Congregate does not have the will to make war on Scipio, and you know it.”
As Diana had spoken, she’d turned and walked back up her dais’s steps. Upon reaching the top, she turned and looked down at the man below her.
“For decades, I’ve been content to let the ASN live in peace. I’ve been a good neighbor. But you know as well as I that the Fringe is a breeding ground for both our enemies. You should be happy that I acquiesced to Silstrand taking control of it. Had that not been the case, you would share a hundred-light-year direct border with Scipio before long. I suspect that Silstrand is much more preferable.”
He swallowed uncomfortably and nodded in silence.
“Good.”
The meeting with Head Ira concluded shortly thereafter. He gave profuse apologies for causing offense, but Diana could tell that it was all a show. His statement had been deliberate, a decision to push her and see how she would respond.
Diana nodded to herself as she settled back onto her throne.
She rattled the words off without giving them much thought. Discussing the Transcend had shifted her thoughts to their ambassador once more, and she found herself wondering what Petra was doing at the moment.
The empress considered reaching out to her sum adjut. All eyes in the palace reported to her, and though Diana had not requested any focus on the Transcend’s delegation, she was certain it was under great scrutiny.
Not that I expect my people to have much luck—given how Petra and her Hand agents operated under their noses for decades.
That thought added an edge to her reminiscing. It was impossible for Diana to deny the feelings she had for Petra. She honestly cared about the ambassador and wished her no ill. But the woman had lied for so many years about who she was…. She’d lain in Diana’s bed and whispered childhood stories in her ear, most of which were, at best, twisted half-truths.
In an instant, Diana’s warm feelings for Petra evaporated, and the rage returned. Unquenchable fury for how the woman she loved had treated her like a pawn.
Core damned woman. Why can’t I seem to move on from this?
There were hundreds of people who Diana hated, who she had even faced dire personal threat from, all of whom she suffered to live. Most of them enjoyed cordial relationships with the empress, and she never flew off the handle when thinking of them.
But not so with Petra.
“Fuck,” Diana muttered, shooting a glance at the Impera Protego lining the room, embarrassed that they’d seen her lose her cool for a moment.