by F. E. Arliss
When Princess Arc Exousia Quirke opened her eyes for the first time, she had no concept of space or time or location. She simply lay on the soft edge of an emerald-green pool in a quiet room. A beautiful white-blonde giantess with amber eyes sat next to her gently stroking her hair.
“Ah, you’re awake,” the giantess said. “Welcome to your nest, the Centurion, Princess Arc Exousia Quirke. I am Queen Altum Juls of the Talio. I am pleased to be here to assist you.”
Slowly Arc’s wits began to settle into place. She remembered everything. Struggling to sit up, the information overload that hit her all at once caused her to slump once more into a pile of putty at the pool’s edge.
“Easy now. It takes a few minutes to take it all in. Let it come to you gradually,” the white-haired giantess advised.
Slowly Arc arranged her strangely-uncooperative, newly elongated limbs into some semblance of order.
“Will you stand?” Queen Altum Juls asked the newly emerged queen.
“Thank you, my Queen,” Princess Arc said huskily, trying out her newly resonant voice for the first time, and smiling in gratitude at the beautiful Osmirian Queen before her.
“Only help me to reach the shower room, please,” Arc Exousia said firmly. “Then Tilson can serve me. Thank you for being here when I awoke,” she added gravely, bowing slightly to Queen Altum Juls.
“My clothing, I see, are upon my bed. Please leave me after you help me to the bath. I need to gather my thoughts,” Arc said quietly, yet firmly. “I thank you deeply for your assistance.”
Queen Altum Juls smiled kindly, glad to hear the slightly haughty tone that had come naturally to the new princess. She deposited Arc as though she was a small child, gently on the seat growing from the wall of the shower enclosure. Arc marveled that the Queen had lifted her easily as though she were a mere babe, then floated silently from the room.
Recalling her clone-mite, Tilson, she called for him. He materialized at the door of the cubicle. “Please turn on the water, Tilson. I can barely move,” she said, grateful for the unassuming loyalty of her bonded mite.
She hadn’t understood when General Monsav had assigned the mite to her all those weeks ago that he was actually ‘giving’ Tilson to her. And that, over time, they would come to be bonded emotionally and that Tilson would understand her every thought, mood and whim. That suited her just fine … as long as he was the only one.
After a long warm shower, Princess Arc Exousia finally felt ready to see herself. She could already tell that her body was quite different than it had been. She was taller, and although about the same in girth, she could tell, as the feeling came back into her extremities, she was vastly stronger.
Weirdly, the prosthetic hand she’d been given on Zabados 9 felt as though it was real. Later, she would realize that it was indeed real. Having grown into an altered appendage with nerves and veins and transformed into living tissue, just as the rest of her had transformed into a partly-genetic Idolum.
Allowing Tilson to turn one of the walls of the queen’s quarters -- her Princess quarters now, Arc Exousia reminded herself -- into a reflective surface, she looked at herself for the first time. “Well, holy crap!” she exclaimed. Her six-foot frame was honed to muscled perfection and her once pale-blonde hair had lengthened and lightened into a thick mane of platinum tresses worthy of a highly-pampered palomino show pony from Earth.
Much to her relief, her eyes were not the orangey-amber of most of the Idolum she knew. Instead, the brilliant blue of her eyes had combined with the amber genetics of the Idolum to produce an amazingly-brilliant set of emerald-green eyes, almost the same color as the queen pool they’d been born in.
Even though they were not the unsettling orange color that had spooked Arc upon meeting the Idolum for the first time, these glowing green orbs still seemed uncannily eerie. Pretty though, she thought, turning this way and that to peruse the changes in herself.
Another odd change was that she had an absolutely amazing tattoo on her forehead. It was picked out in a beautifully iridescent, rose-gold color and glowed against her pale skin and hair like Morganite jewels.
The rose-gold, accompanied by the emerald green of her eyes, and white-blonde hair, made her aware that she was stunningly beautiful. Not that she was anything to sneeze at before, she assured herself.
Slowly donning the clothing that Queen Altum Juls had laid out for her, Arc Exousia Quirke was relieved to see that they stretched to fit. The wonders of nanite technology, she smirked. They were also to her taste, which surprised her. She supposed somehow Queen Altum Juls had known what she’d like.
There were the most glorious, slightly above ankle-height boots made of a tough synth-leather hide textured with the genetic code of some long dead species. The boots had black, glossy nanotech armor over the instep and a clear Lucite-like wedge heel that was most likely far stronger than anything as mundane as Lucite.
To accompany the boots, which Arc Exousia thought were the most divine boots ever, was a set of plain black, synth-leather pants. At the hemline, the pants had a stylish pleat, lined with royal blue, that allowed the narrow pant-legs to slip easily over the top of the boots. Clever holsters for all types of weapons were woven into the seams of the garment.
A soft high-necked, cropped tank top of brilliant blue slipped over her head, baring her admirably ripped abdomen. A super-flexible, black synth-leather jacket with brilliant blue piping along the seams was there to complete the outfit.
To top it all off was a jeweled headband studded with what looked like a combination of sapphires, opals, blue topaz, and labradorite. It was gorgeous, and set in a lovely, intricately swirled pattern of rose-gold metal. When she slipped it into the wildly long, white-blonde mane of hair to keep it off her face, she could feel the metal band twining and growing around her head to hold it firmly in place.
Turning to the reflective surface, Arc was stunned by the vision she saw reflected there. She was no longer a cargo hauler. Now she was an Idolum Princess. There was no doubt about it. Her posture seemed impossibly erect and the tattoo in the middle of her forehead was glowing, offset by the rose-gold headband, all of which had become a sort of shallow crown.
Striding closer to the surface of the mirror, Arc examined the tattoo. It was about four inches long and about two inches high and covered most of her visible forehead. Even with her hair pulled back by the circlet, she could see that the ends meandered back under her hairline and disappeared. Two short curving points gently curled around the corners of her eyes.
Its shape seemed vaguely familiar to Arc, perhaps something Celtic or Polynesian. Suddenly, without even knowing how she knew, Arc Exousia knew that it was a manta ray-type being called a hahalua.
Its meaning was ‘graceful strength and wisdom’ and its name originated from the meaning for ‘two breaths’. Well that was certainly appropriate, Arc thought. She supposed its tail went down her back. Turning her back to the reflection, she lifted her hair. Sure enough, a long rose-gold metallic tail snaked gracefully down her spine beneath the blue top.
Princess Arc Exousia Quirke took an hour to gather her thoughts and composure. She explored the nooks and crannies of her quarters, mentally summoning the knowledge of each article she found and acquainting herself with their uses and stories.
The prior Queen of the Centurion had been a witty, intelligent being. Some of the items had great sentimental value to the prior queen, and Arc saw the memories of these treasures float through her mind.
One item in particular stood out among the others she found in the suite. It was a thick cuff of intricately carved labradorite studded into a black luminescent Tungsten base. General Monsav had bestowed this item upon the prior Queen at her first birthing of warriors. He had been the sire of that batch of hatchlings and many of them were the warriors currently acting as his Lieutenants.
Slipping the cuff onto her newly elongated wrist, Arc Exousia turned back the sleeve of the black jacket and watched as the sleeve sh
runk to allow the bracelet to show. At the same time, the intricate bracelet clasped around her wrist as though it had no intention of ever being parted from her. Arc smiled to herself. That was fine with her. She’d never owned anything even remotely as beautiful. She hoped General Monsav wouldn’t mind that she wore it.
Straightening her already impossibly erect shoulders, Arc Exousia Quirke, followed closely by Tilson, left her quarters to face her new life.
Chapter Twenty-Two
One Demanding Customer
The next few days were a whirlwind of activity. Arc’s family were just as happy to see her as she’d hoped. General Monsav had practically wept when he’d seen the bracelet on her wrist and she had thanked him for it and informed him how much she enjoyed it.
In turn, she greeted each member of her nest, recalling their designations and histories without effort. The Centurion seemed to hum with well-being, little tendrils of vines escaping to caress her at random as she sat discussing the plans for infiltrating the slave ring.
Queen Altum Juls had impressed upon her the importance of ‘owning’ what she now was, an Idolum Princess. Arc knew exactly what she meant. In order to successfully arrange a meeting with the ‘nerve center’ of the ring, she was going to have to be one demanding customer, buying large quantities of mammals and demanding entrance to see the most select slaves available. It would entail being absolutely arrogant and demanding and ‘princess like’. Arc was reminded of a couple of girls famous on social vids back on Earth. They didn’t have the maturity to have been called ‘queens’, but their spoiled antics and temper tantrums had earned them the nickname of ‘princesses’. That sort of spoiled, entitled behavior might come in handy during this mission.
There would also have to be some sort of cover for the fact that General Monsav’s nest was notoriously ‘non-death dealing’ and honored the ‘life-givers’ or mammals that fed them.
Hence the time-worn skins that were their nest’s badge of honor. They wore the skins of their long-term ‘life-givers’ as a way of honoring their sacrifice of energy. They took the skins only after the mammals they’d bonded with for energy died of old age - which was usually a far longer life than their unbonded herd mates.
Queen Altum Juls had an idea for that. Posing as a new Queen, Arc Exousia could portray herself any way she chose. She could for instance, decide that while honoring the mammals that fed them was all well and good for the great masses of her nest, she could partake of only the most prime of offerings, perhaps humans that she chose herself and paid a top premium for.
It was a good plan. Cunning and cold, and something the Evelsons would completely understand, Arc knew. It would be very strange when she came face to face with her birth family. Or not. Perhaps none of them would recognize her anyway, and she sure as hell didn’t care for any of them.
Arc Exousia asked Commander Quirke to take the Clyde and find the cabbie, Alfie Woodard, who had helped her on UZ627. He’d been the key to cracking open the identity of the owners of the ring. She suspected he might also know how people contacted the slaver consortium.
Sure enough, the inestimable Alfie, whose eyes and ears seemed to ‘know all’ through his network of cabbie friends, had seen a number of shuttles bearing unsavory types, probably slaver liaisons, approach Uzi from the trajectory of the off-planet rendezvous spot that Commander Quirke showed him.
They usually met in a small, rather exclusive restaurant on the space-port’s upper level. The Alliance would have to send a human as the liaison. Over hotly debated nominations, Arc’s dad put his foot down and demanded that a Quirke be sent. If Birdie or he couldn’t go, then one of his brothers would go. Everyone agreed.
Meeting at the outpost of Captain Sasha Kelty on Renegar, Ewan Quirke’s brother, Angus, and his crew on the Clyde.2 had already landed and were enjoying a cold drink in the massive cavern when the Clyde, having shuttled down from the Centurion, landed.
Arc’s father tramped down the ramp as soon as it lowered from Clyde’s side and man-hugged an almost equally grizzled-looking man of similar height and gnarliness. “Good to see you, brother,” Ewan Quirke said to the other man, almost a mirror image of himself. The only difference being that instead of the long braid down the back of his neck, this Quirke had shaved his brownish-gray hair down to a serviceable flat-top burr.
As Arc, ghosted by a shy Birdie, stalked majestically down the ramp behind them, Ewan Quirke turned and rumbled, “These are my daughters, Arc and Birdie. Girls, meet your uncle Angus.”
Ignoring her uncle’s gaping face, Arc stuck out a massive hand, “Pleased to meet you, Uncle Angus. Birdie, say hello,” she said gently, ruffling the small Vanguardian’s hair.
A muffled “allo,” came from the direction of Birdie’s head, where her curious brown eyes had just begun to peak slightly around Arc’s bulging bicep.
Their uncle shook himself, stepped forward and grasped Arc’s strong hand, “I’m pleased to meet you as well, girls. Ewan’s been owed a family for decades and I’m glad he finally found himself one. He’s mighty proud of both of you,” he added calmly, clearly having recovered himself.
“I hear we’re going after some very bad people, and that you need my help as a liaison between the groups,” he said quietly. Turning to cast his eyes over the people milling about in the cavern, he added, “I’m taking it that the reason I’m needed is that the liaison will be between human and Idolum.”
“Yes. Have you ever met an Idolum, Angus?” Ewan Quirke asked his brother grimly.
“Can’t say I have. They seem rather hard to get ahold of, though I’m thinking I just had a pretty good grip on one a moment ago,” he added with a grin at Arc.
She smiled back.
“You did indeed. My girl, Arc, is now Princess Arc Exousia Quirke, of the Centurion nest,” her father said proudly. “How a Commander of a cargo hauler ever got so fortunate in daughters, I don’t know. Just pure luck I guess.”
At that sweet sentiment, Arc stepped forward, towing Birdie gently behind her, and kissed her father’s wizened cheek. “Thanks, Dad,” she whispered. Birdie did the same.
Angus Quirke turned away to give them some privacy, but not before Arc had seen a slight glimmer in his eyes at this caring act.
Queen Altum Juls and Captain Sasha Kelty came forward then and while Captain Kelty made the introductions to Angus Quirke for Queen Altum Juls, Commander Quirke, Birdie and Arc went to join the rest of their friends.
No one acted much different towards Arc now except for the Idolum mites and General Monsav, who had become more formal, but were distinctly pleased. Dag couldn’t help himself and was raving over her jewels, muscles and clothes. “Does this mean you’re hot for me now, Dag?” Arc asked him teasingly. “I still don’t have the right parts you know,” she ribbed him.
“Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm, mmmm, ummm!” he said, licking his lips. “Too bad, girl, or I’d keep you for myself. Just let me drool a little each day over your gorgeousness, and we won’t tell anyone that I’m not your man. Ok?!” he asked, laughing.
Arc hugged him to her and said, “You pretend anything you want. My gorgeousness is at your disposal, my Viking god.” Both giggled like school girls, bringing happy glances from Birdie, Coates and Cole, who were just happy to see things back on a more normal keel. It had been an odd couple of months.
One by one, Ewan Quirke’s brothers and their crews landed on Renegar. Enormous red and orange camo nets littered the surrounding plateaus, disguising the bustling activity that milled about on the planet’s surface. Captain Kelty was nothing if not cautious. The soaking baths at the bottom of the canyon were getting quite a workout. Much to Arc’s dismay, she didn’t fit very well anymore. Her shoulders were almost too wide for the narrow slots. She consoled herself with the thought of the ‘queen pool’ in her quarters.
The plan was mulled over, torn apart, and reformed. Ideas floated out and were shot down or integrated into one master plan until everyone felt it was as good as they w
ere going to get.
Arc was a little disappointed that while polite and friendly during the discussions for the plan, Caja was distinctly less willing to flirt with her now that she was an Idolum hybrid. Oh well. Maybe he’d be suitable for Birdie in a couple of years. Saying this out loud to Dag had elicited a quick hug in sympathy.
Arc’s part of the plan came later. First up was Angus Quirke and his crew. They were to fly to Uzi and Angus would try to make contact with the slaver’s liaison by dropping a few subtle hints to the people Alfie pointed out as known associates of the Evelsons.
Once that happened, the negotiations could begin. The hard part would be getting the meeting with the actual nerve-center of the ring.
They all agreed that they would probably have to make a buy first, and perhaps find it unsuitable for the very picky Queen. Then see if they could get a meeting with the highest level of the organization.
For the time being, when they made a buy, the first loads of slaves would be taken to Giaica and dropped off to the sisters of the Temple of the Mother, a group of women that worshiped the energies that connect all living things, emanating they believed from what they called the Mother. Arc couldn’t disagree with that idea. And, since Sasha Kelty trusted them implicitly, so would Arc.