Requiem for the Conqueror

by W. Michael Gear

  Finished, she put the glass on a sculpted counter. "I'll kill you, Regan."

  "No, my dear, not so long as you wear the collar."

  A curious light danced in her eyes. "It shuts off all feeling? It did when your bitch, Takka, used it the first time on the LC."

  "Everything below the neck. That's why I've already won. By couldn't have pleased me more than by making a gift of you. "

  Her eyes flickered as a slight frown formed.

  With his glass, he gestured. "Come closer. Ah, don't hesitate like that. You have no choice. Come--or suffer the collar. "

  She swallowed, throat working. Almost trembling, she took a step, then another, the light material swirling around her long graceful legs.

  Tybalt reached out a hand, feeling her shudder as he placed it on her shoulder. "That's it, dear one. See, not so terrible, is it? The collar can overcome any assortment of obstacles. Even psychological training."

  She went tense, trembling, every muscle in her body twitching as he ran his fingers along the side of her face. "You know, Arta, I will take very good care of you. It isn't such a bad life, being my slave. "

  She had closed her eyes, teeth chattering behind tight lips.

  "Ily let me see the tapes of your interrogation. I know you were trained on Etaria. You know the arts of love, my dear. It's up to me to liberate them within you. That's why you'll never want again, dear Arta. Ask and I shall grant you most anything."

  "D-don't ... touch me," she managed, fighting revulsion.

  "That I won't grant-or your freedom either. No, dearest, I'll keep you for myself." His fingers dropped to the broach at her shoulder, unpinning the soft material. He stepped back as it fluttered down her body, shimmering in the subdued light.

  "Marvelous," he breathed. "The most exquisite woman I have ever seen."

  She seemed to still her trembling, opening her eyes to watch him guardedly as he unfastened his own garments, stepping out of the pile they made on the floor. Something changed in her expression as he came close.

  "Easy, Arta. Relax. We have all night. Don't fight me. I control the collar."

  He caught her in mid-leap, stepping out of the way as she crashed nervelessly to the floor.

  He released the control. "It might turn out to be a long night. This is a simple stimulus response reconditioning. You can learn to control your training." Tybalt refilled his sherry as she gasped on the floor. "Stand up."

  Patiently, he dropped her time after time while she fought the collar and him.

  Finally, drained, she withstood the impulse to attack as he reached and ran a hand down her skin.

  "There, see, the training can be overcome." Tybalt smiled and reached forward to kiss her. His lips touched hers.. He triggered the collar before her knee was halfway to his crotch.

  "Can't do that, dearest," Tybalt chided.

  She seemed to be on her feet more quickly this time, as if drawing on some inner reserve.

  He kissed her hard, pressing himself to her, feeling his passion grow. Again he triggered the collar before she could strike.

  "You have incredible endurance," Tybalt murmured. "The Seddi are truly masters at their craft. " He dropped

  beside her as she lay on the floor, triggering the collar again, allowing his hands to caress her. "No, the time has come, dear Arta."

  Each time she began to resist, he used the collar. Finally he lay on her, his manhood spent. He filled his lungs with the odor of her as sweat trickled down his sides to mix with hers.

  Sighing, he forced himself up, going for more sherry. "We will get better at that, you and L"

  The second time he took her, she controlled herself. After his orgasm he lay on her, staring into her eyes, dazzled by the amber and the depths of her black pupils. She chuckled softly and reached her long arms around him as a cunning satisfaction filled her expression.

  "See," he cooed, "you can give pleasure without striking. "

  "Yes," she added thoughtfully. "I am past that." ,'Work for me. Give me the bliss of an Etarian Priestess." She followed him when he went for another glass of

  sherry, and joined him, taking a glass, draining it. She smiled in private triumph as she sipped the amber liquor. Tybalt laughed, throwing his head back. "There is no

  power in Free Space greater than Tybalt! I have broken the Seddi!" He reached to draw her close. "You, my dear, I have freed! "

  "No, Tybalt," her sensual tones corrected. "You see, I have freed myself."

  "Uh-uh!" He shook a finger at her. "That is a rule you must learn. Never correct the Emperor."

  "Of course," she agreed, eyes slitted, head back.

  'And we have a full night ahead of us!" He pointed at the floor.

  Still smiling, warmth radiating from her eyes, she lay back, spreading her wealth of body on the soft fabrics. Tybalt set his glass down and lowered himself. Her fingers traced the lines of his back, nails making him quiver.

  "Let me show you something," she whispered seductively to him. "Just lie there. Don't be afraid. After all, you control the collar." She stood, muscles rippling along her body.

  Awed, Tybalt's heart skipped. "What a wonder you are, Arta Fera. "

  A secret smile curled on her lips.

  He triggered the collar as she leapt high and arrowed downward. The force of the impact smashed him into the unforgiving floor. His sternum and ribs snapped loudly under her hard knee. Tybalt's mouth dropped open as he lay stunned.

  She filled his vision as she bent. He stared up in pained disbelief. An odd croaking came from his throat. He tried to get his breath. Frantically, he triggered the collar again, seeing her fight it, seeing her still pulling air into her lungs as she ran long fingers around the collar.

  "You see, Tybalt," she whispered, "I have freed myself." Panic caused him to scramble away from her, each movement a spear of agony in his chest. "Help,"

  he mouthed, voice a hoarse croak.

  "There is no help. I overheard the guard say you keep this room unmonitored so your wife can never have evidence to use against you."

  Again and again he triggered the collar, tasting the brass of blood in his mouth; a gurgling rose in his throat.

  She crushed her knee into his chest again, lancing white agony through his body. He gagged, trying to throw up. Her forearm-hard with muscle-cut his gag reflex short as she leaned down to look into his eyes.

  "Enjoying it, Tybalt? Do you like the fear? The pain? Feeling degraded? Just like rape, don't you agree?" She tilted her head slightly before leaning forward, kissing him gently on the lips. "That last was for freeing me, Tybalt."

  The Imperial Seventh stared, hypnotized by the blood on her lips-his blood-the same blood that dribbled down the side of his face. Unable to move, dizzy, pain-glazed, he saw her turn. Her kick jolted his entire body as she crushed his manhood against his pubis bone.

  The white-hot grip of agony pulled him deeper and deeper into oblivion.

  Blood-smeared lips expanded into gleaming amber eyes-his last sight as he trembled and died.

  Ily Takka smiled in satisfaction as Tybalt's physical signs weakened on the small hand-held monitor she carried. She flashed the jessant-de-lis at the guard and used the badge

  to deactivate the security door to Tybalt's personal quarters. Ily stepped quietly into the room as Arta Fera bent over Tybalt's dark body, kissing him fervently. The Minister of Internal Security winced at the Seddi assassin's final kick, oddly shaken by the brutality of it.

  Fera watched as Tybalt quivered and slowly relaxed. A fragment of rib had pushed though the side of his chest like a bloody lance. Fera turned then, seeing Ily for the first time. Eyes going to the blaster pointed in her direction.

  "Very well done," Ily praised. "Couldn't have done it better myself."

  Arta Fera tossed her head, flipping her full-bodied hair over her shoulder as she walked to the console and poured sherry into a glass. She rinsed her mouth and spit, wiping her lips clean on the expensive fabric hanging from
the walls.

  She checked herself in a reflecting glass and turned. "Now what?"

  Ily leaned against the door, alert, pistol ready. "I hate to do it, but you'll have to be tried. The psych experts will confirm your deep trigger. The collar will be found to be faulty. Mareeah Rath's family will be so disgusted they'll want to cover up the whole thing."

  Arta's amber eyes took her measure. "It won't be that easy, Ily. Is there a shower here?"

  "In the corner. Press the golden knob. But leave the door open. I don't like surprises."

  Arta walked over to press the knob and stepped in. Finding soap she began washing, heedless of the water splashing onto the fine fabrics.

  "And why won't it?" Ily gave herself plenty of room as she crossed to the console, pouring herself a glass of sherry, never allowing the pistol to waver.

  "Because the deep trigger is broken. That's why I kissed the bastard. I owe him for that. The rest I paid back in kind. "

  Ily sipped the sherry. "Then I should probably kill you now. "

  Arta nodded, scrubbing thoroughly. "That would eliminate any threat from me.

  On the other hand, a lot of things were broken along with the psych trigger."

  "Such as?" Ily cocked her head, turning the glass in her fingers.

  "Such as my loathing for Rega." Arta turned off the water, studying the surroundings. "How do you dry off in this thing?"

  "Silver handle on the right," Ily offered, amused at the way the woman jumped as the energy fields ran down her body. Water trickled away in streams. "So?"

  Arta stepped out, walking in a wide detour around Tybalt to get her gossamer dress. She picked it up, looking at it with disgust. "Anything else to wear in here?"

  "To fit a body like yours? I'm not sure. Touch the wall there by the holo."

  Arta did and shuffled through the garments standing in the antigrav field. She chose a long wraparound and tightened it about her.

  "You once mentioned that you might have a place for a woman of my training and ability." Arta crossed her arms over the too-tight fabric at her chest.

  "I have a dead Emperor here." Ily tilted her head toward Tybalt's body.

  Arta's eyes never left hers. "And, as Empress, you'll need a good assassin.

  You know I'm the best."

  "You're a quick study, Arta Fera. Perhaps a dangerous one. "

  "We share similar opinions of one another. Before I came along, you had your plans laid. Where does Fist fit into all this?"

  "He destroys Sassa and the Companions. He becomes my Emperor and enforcer."

  "A little young, isn't he?"

  "All the better. I can train him the way I want. What's your price?"

  "Freedom." Arta closed her eyes. "I want your protection, an open expense account, and a small fast ship with a female crew. Nothing more. I don't have any aspirations for your position. I was born and bred for assassination and excitement. "

  Ily made a decision and stepped to the rear of the room where she ran quick fingers over a gold design. The wall opened. "I guess you're going to escape instead of being

  tried for assassination. Up there. Follow the steps. You'll come out in my quarters."

  "And the guards outside the door?" Arta asked as she entered the narrow way.

  "Don't worry. You killed them during your escape. Stay in my room. Your picture will be all over Rega within an hour. I'll get you up to my ship later." Closing the portal behind the woman, Ily smiled and laughed. Then she pulled the jessant-de-lis from her pouch.

  She walked over to look into Tybalt's wide dead eyes. "And you thought you could kill me with this? Oh, you stupid fool. I disconnected the detonator the day you insisted on brandishing that silly switch around. Now we'll see who can handle Ily Takka."

  She stepped to the wall comm. Her second in command's face formed on the viewer. "Gysell, the Emperor has been murdered! You will place an arrest warrant out for the Seddi assassin, Arta Fera. Institute immediate social control, the military is to be placed on alert. I want crowd control and a news blackout. The Rath family is to be cordoned off—for their protection, you see. I am declaring a State of Emergency."

  Gysell's eyes widened. "My God! Do we have the authority?"

  She held up the jessant-de-lis, the jaguar's head gleaming in the light.

  "I understand," Gysell gulped.

  "You will immediately have our agents round up the Councillors. I am placing them all under arrest. All official correspondence will be routed through my office from here on out."

  "That's. ..." Gysell's face went ashen.

  "Come, Gysell, you were handpicked for the job of Imperial Secretary. I could find another." She arched an eyebrow.

  He studied her for a moment, color coming back into his face. "That won't be necessary, Ily. I'll see to crushing any rebellion. What are the charges against the Councillors?"

  "Corruption." She cut the monitor and poured another glass of sherry. Facing Tybalt's body, she raised the glass. "To the future Lord Emperor!"

  CHAPTER 34

  The chatter of voices blared in an unholy din coupled with the clatter of armor and clunking of weapons. A feeling of relief filled the assault transport's large gymnasium as men and women stripped off armor, laughing and greeting

  old companions. Sinklar watched—heart breaking—from the A7 companionway. He steeled himself, stepping into the crowd.

  Someone saw him, elbowing a friend. The hush spread, as all eyes turned in his direction. What can I tell them? How can I make them know what I felt down there?

  Sinklar heard a sudden comotion and turned as someone forced through the press of bodies. MacRuder's blond hair and familiar features shot a curiously anguished relief through Sink. Mac's face beamed as he walked close, stopping an arm's length from Sinklar before rushing to hug him and pound his back.

  Sinklar pushed him back and held him at arm's length. "Mac? I tried . . .

  everything. . . ."

  In the sudden silence, the Division First's voice carried. "The Lord Commander told us how hard you tried to break us out. We know you had to leave or be blown up." He turned, arm out in a grand gesture. "Look, we all came back!"

  A loud cheer boomed to shake the very deck plating under his feet.

  Sinklar raised his hands, a quivering smile on his lips until he waved them to silence. "We've all been harrowed and tried. Your comrades and I did all we could, paid with our blood and souls in an attempt to win your freedom. Now, through luck and curious fortune, we're united once more. And, as the Blessed Gods are our witness, we'll never be divided again!"

  Another cheer drowned the room, leaving his heart thudding against his chest.

  Once more he waved them down, climbing to a rec table so he could be seen. The air carried the rich odor of hot bodies. He looked out at their faces, some beaming, others concerned.

  "We were desperate, fighting a cunning adversary. We were winning." His voice dropped. "Then the order came. I could not countermand the Emperor's orders.

  Not with Gyton's guns over our heads. I want each and every one of you to remember that order—remember the guns over our heads . . . because events are unfolding—and we'll never find ourselves in that wretched state of affairs again!"

  Their enthusiasm roared from hundreds of voices, to buffet him with a rhythmic shout of, "SINKLAR! SINKLAR! SINKLAR!"

  Skyla passed through the bridge hatch and stepped into the transport tube. She accessed Staffa's quarters and crossed her arms. What would she do? Had that spark in his eyes in Etarus been for her? Now doubt assailed her. "He was probably just glad to be free of the collar—to see a friendly face."

  She couldn't forget the way they'd held each other. Skyla sighed and rubbed her tired eyes. The certainty grew that Staffa would expect their relationship to remain the same as it had always been.

  She straightened and stepped out of the tube as the doors opened, and almost ran into Nyklos.

  "Hello!" Nyklos cried, brightening.

/>   "What are you doing here?"

  Nyklos gave her his toothy smile, mustache curling. "Maybe you could help me.

  I heard they brought Bruen aboard. I thought I might get to see him."

  "I'll make sure you do."

  He placed a hand on her arm as she started past.

  "You're going to see Staffa, aren't you?"

  She looked coldly at his hand, then into his eyes. "You don't have to play the game anymore, Nyklos. The Seddi are coming to Itreata. I think the sparring is over."

  He nodded and pursed his lips, a sadness in his eyes. "I wish you the best. I sincerely do." And he hustled away down the hall.

  Skyla frowned, shook her head, and made her way to Staffa's double hatch. Two of Ark's people stood at the door and snapped out salutes. Skyla palmed the hatch, hop ing her bridge command override worked. The double doors slid open and she entered.

  The room looked the same, still opulent, the red couch a painful reminder of the psychologically disoriented Staffa who'd left in search of himself. The Etarian sand leopard snarled down at her. The collection of battle trophies on the walls mocked her.

  An old man sighed as he settled into a gravchair next to the incongruous fireplace. Even from the rear, Skyla could recognize Kaylla Dawn, the woman helping him. Dawn wore the upper half of stained grimy battle armor over what had once been a tan robe, now spotted with blood and smudged with dirt.

  Dawn turned and locked eyes with Skyla. For long moments, they studied each other.

  "Wing Commander, it's good to see you. You arrived in the nick of time once again." Kaylla hesitated, somewhat unsure. "I guess we all owe you our lives.

  I'm starting to believe you're almost bigger than life. Staffa told the truth about you."

  "Hope the ride in the box wasn't too much of an inconvenience. The accommodations were a bit spartan."

  "After Etaria, anything would have been a relief."

  Skyla could sense the strain between them. Rotted Gods, the Seddi woman and Staffa hadn't. . . . Well, why not? Staffa was a healthy normal man, and Kaylla Dawn possessed the poise and the kind of athletic body any man might become enamored with. Instead of stiffening, Skyla forced herself to walk forward, taking Dawn's measure.