“What happens if the hull is breached? Do we get suits, or some emergency survival sphere?”
“If the hull is breached the slave dies, as is intended,” said the male, showing his sharp teeth. “Now the slave will get up from the chair and follow me, immediately.”
Gorbachev wasn’t sure what to do, but knew she did not want to follow the Cacada to wherever he wanted to take her. He gave her another cruel smile and touched the finger claw of a right hand to a wrist band he wore on his lower left hand.
The pain was excruciating, a sensation like molten metal pouring down her neck, chest and breasts, making her gasp, then scream, as tears poured from her eyes and snot from her nose. As quickly as it had come the pain left, and Jana looked down, afraid of what she was going to see. Her mind imagined a horribly burned or maimed body. Relief flooded her as she saw that her skin was untouched. Induction field, was her next thought, something that impacted directly on her nerves, and could make her feel any sensation that her captors wanted her to experience.
“The slave will follow this male, now, unless the slave wishes to feel more pain.”
Jana was on her feet in an instant, coming right up to the male until he put out a hand and motioned her back. He walked from the room and she followed a couple of meters behind, not wishing to receive more instruction in obedience.
They moved down a curving corridor that Jana thought must be along the outer edge of the station, and from the curvature she could tell that this was a large structure. At least as big as a class one fort or a large space dock, if not larger. There were Cacada males everywhere, and none of their females, and she wondered what kind of society the Ca’cadasans had that excluded their women from even rear echelon military professions. Very protective, or just male dominated, in which females were seen as lesser beings.
There were also many slaves moving through the ship, all naked, all wearing collars much like hers, those that had necks. Or rings around other parts of their bodies if they did not. She counted at least a couple of dozen different species of aliens on the walk, most mammalians of some sort, though there were a few reptilians, an insectoid, and several that she could not classify. It was apparent that all had been conquered, and that the Ca’cadasans did not incorporate subjugated species into their military, unlike the humans.
After a walk that had to take twenty minutes or more the officer turned down another corridor, this one leading outward. Fifty meters out they came to a door with two armored warriors standing guard. The soldiers saluted the officer and the door opened, leading into a large, ornately furnished chamber with a huge floor to ceiling portal looking out on the planet Massadara III.
A large male was sitting in a chair, his back to the door, looking out over the planet. The officer growled something in a language Gorbachev could not understand, and was answered in kind. The escorting officer touched the pad on his arm that controlled the collar, and suddenly Jana could understand what the beings were saying.
“So this is the one who worked under the one they call the heir,” said the big male, turning his chair and looking at her with predatory eyes.
“She is, my Lord,” said another voice in the same language, a voice she had really not expected to hear.
Jana turned to her head to see the man she had known as Ben walking in from another chamber. The man wore shipboard clothing of an ancient design, such as the Chief had seen in the history texts. And he wore no collar, showing that he was a trusted servant and not a slave.
“You fucking traitor,” yelled Jana, turning her body in the man’s direction and taking a step toward him. A moment later the thought of murder was no longer in her mind as she writhed on the floor in agony. The pain seemed to go on forever, though she knew it was only moments.
When the pain left she tried to get back to her feet, and found that her muscles didn’t work. That caused another moment of panic, the Chief believing that some permanent damage may have been caused.
“The slave will learn her place,” said the officer who had escorted her to the chamber. “We can cause pain, and we can cause pleasure.”
Jana gasped as the most intense wave of pleasure she had ever felt ran through her body. Ten times more pleasurable than the most intense orgasm she had ever experienced, it was almost painful in its intensity. And immediately she could see that this kind of stimulation could be more dangerous than the painful kind. The word addiction came to mind, as in willing to do anything to get more of it.
“Stand up,” said the male, who from his ornate horn decoration seemed to be a very high ranking officer, maybe the station commander.
The pleasure stopped, and Jana found that her muscles now worked. So they can paralyze as well, thought the Chief, more hopelessness pressing down on her psyche.
“I would like to know more about this heir,” said the high ranking male. “This Prince Sean. What kind of a man is he?”
“You can go to Hell,” said the Chief, glaring at the alien, even as she cringed inside from what she knew was coming. The Cacada male didn’t disappoint, and the wave of pain that struck her was worse than the one before. When it was over she lay on the floor, shaking and whimpering like a whipped cur.
“Would you like her, Ben?” asked the high ranking male, and Jana opened her eyes in fear as the words struck home.
“Very much so, my Lord,” said the human who Jana considered a traitor. “She is very attractive, and I have not had sex in so long.”
“Then she is yours,” said the male, and Jana felt the paralysis come over her again. “She is only a female, after all. And all they are good for is breeding.”
Jane waited, feeling the panic rise up in her again. She was not a virgin, but had never really believed that she would be raped. Not in her society, and especially not with her fighting skills. And now it was about to happen, and there was nothing she could do about it. The moments went by, and then a hand gripped her shoulder and turned her over onto her back. Ben was standing over her, naked, an erection sticking out from his groin. He moved her legs apart, then positioned himself and entered her. To her shame she was moist, something that may have been attributable to the control the aliens had over her, or something psychological which she was not aware of. Either way it brought her shame as he thrust in and out of her with the big aliens standing over them, watching the act with clinical detachment.
Fortunately it did not last long, and soon she felt the man ejaculate inside her. At least you won’t get me pregnant, you fucking pig, thought Gorbachev. Her internal nanites would take care of that problem. If only they could take care of her humiliation as well.
Chapter Six
To have command is to have all the power you will ever need. To have all the power you will ever need, is to have the world in the palm of your hand. Tiberius Caesar.
CAPITULUM, JEWEL, AND IN ORBIT AROUND JEWEL. MARCH 22nd, 1000.
Hyper VIII was the strangest of the known hyper dimensions, with a ratio sixty five thousand five hundred to one to normal space. There were theoretical dimensions above it, including the hypothetical Plank Dimension, in which every part of the Universe was within a microscopic distance of any other part of the same cosmos.
Because of the energy requirements to breach the dimension, much less stay in it, it was not useable for movement of material objects. Some genius in the past had discovered a way to use the otherwise useless dimension. Very small holes could be opened in the dimension and kept open, large enough for small probes to be inserted to just inside the foreign space. Radio and other electromagnetic signals could be transmitted to other probes through hyper VIII, making ultrafast if not instantaneous communications possible. A light year was covered in eight minutes. Lines of hyperlinks were routed between important star systems of the Empire. Ten a light year, with a manned substation containing repair and replacement facilities every two light years. All of the core worlds were on a hyperlink, though not all to each other. Sector capitals and other important milit
ary worlds were also on the link, allowing news from one end of the Empire to reach the other end in eleven days.
* * *
“So, are you settling in to your new role, Count Sutter?” asked Streeter of the young man who was sitting on the couch with drink in hand. Streeter wondered for not the first time if the young noble wasn’t a drunkard. He always seemed to be putting something in his body, alcohol or other drugs. He seems to hold it well enough, thought the Prime Minister, smiling at the future Emperor. Might give us more control over him.
“Thank you, my Lord Prime Minister,” said the young man with a slight slur. “I am just going over a list of the senior commanders in the Fleet. Decided who should be retained, and who cashiered.”
“We of the Lords, of course, will have recommendations to give you, along with our suggestions as to who should stay, and who should go.”
“Of course,” said the Count, taking another swallow from his drink. “But these two definitely have to go.”
The Count touched a tab on his flat comp and a holograph sprang into existence above the paper thin device. A trio of faces rotated above the machine. Two of them the Prime Minister recognized right away, the last he did not.
“I see you have Lenkowski and Mgonda there. Two very good choices. But who is that third?”
“Her Lady, the Countess Esmeralda Gonzalez,” said the Count, an angry sneer on his face. “My old commander. The bitch who had me drummed me out of the service when I served aboard her ship.”
Streeter linked into his own database for a moment, frowning as he saw that the now Vice Admiral had most recently been stationed as system commander of Massadara. Which system had been reported to have been attacked by whatever enemy was rampaging across Sector Four. “I don’t think you need to be worried about that one, your Majesty,” said Streeter, his frown turning into a smile. “She was last in command of a system that was overrun by a hostile power. I doubt she is still among the living.”
“Then I want her dishonored in some way,” said the Count, his face reddening. “I want her remembered as a failure who persecuted an innocent young man out of the service.”
“The memory of her legacy is really the purview of the Fleet,” said Streeter. “Parliament is not really in charge of what amounts to their personnel decisions.”
“But as Emperor I will be in charge of the Fleet, will I not?” said the Count with a smile. “They have to listen to me, right?”
“Yes, your Majesty,” said Streeter, wondering where this was going. “You will. Though the assignments of lower ranking flag officers will not really something you should concern yourself with.”
“I will concern myself with what I want to concern myself with,” screamed the Count, slamming his hand through the holo and down on the flat comp. “When I am Emperor I will be in charge, and you will have to do what I want you to do.”
“Of course, your Majesty,” said Streeter, giving the young man a bow. And if you believe that, my young puppet, you aren’t as bright as you look. And you look none too bright right now.
The Count was staring off into space now, and Streeter nodded at the security men who were charged with the protection of the man they had designated the heir. The chief of the detail nodded back, and the Prime Minister backed out of the room, sure that the young drunken fool would be babysat while he continued to drink himself into a stupor.
“You better see this, Prime Minister,” said a staffer, running up to Streeter.
“What now,” growled the PM, glaring at the woman. “I’ll be in my office.”
Streeter walked into his luxurious working room and yelled for the holo to come alive. An image appeared above the desk of the man who was making things so difficult for the Lord, and he cursed as he saw the Logo of the Imperial News Network at the bottom of the holo.
“And we cannot afford to make this noble the Lords would foist upon us the Emperor,” said Grand High Admiral Gabriel Len Lenkowski on the tridee vid the holo was feeding from. “His military record speaks clearly that he does not have the character needed for the job, especially not with a war looming on the horizon. A war in which the first shots have been fired.”
“What about the response from the Prime Minister that the Count is now a responsible citizen, and a role model for other nobles?” asked the off view reporter.
“A leopard could more easily pull off his spots and become a house cat,” said the Admiral, his intense face looking out at the audience, which included most of the planet Jewel.
And very soon the core worlds,” thought the Prime Minister. As soon as it gets on the hyper relay.
“We have evidence provided by Naval Intelligence that this, Count, who is an Imperial Cousin, was hiding out on a frontier world because of his gambling debts. He was negligent when he was in the Fleet. And he is still a reprobate.”
“But doesn’t the Empire need someone at the helm?” said the reporter. “Especially if we are starting a new war. One that threatens to be the largest to date.”
“Better no captain than a bad one,” said the Admiral. “And besides, Augustine’s third born son is still out there. As soon as we can get him to the capital he will be installed.”
“Then produce him,” yelled Streeter at the holo, raising a fist. “Produce him, or get out of the way of your betters.”
Streeter punched the remote on his desk and the holo died. His next move was to link to a private number and wait for a response. “This better be important, Prime Minister,” said a voice on the other end that always sent shivers up his spine.
“It is. I need to meet with you. It is very important. We need to discuss some things that need to stay between us.”
“Very well,” said the cold voice. “Meeting place 5G. One hour. And don’t be late.”
The circuit died, and Streeter once again wondered how he had gotten into bed with such frightening people, before remembering that the frightfulness was just what he needed at this time. And besides, Jeraviki got us on the back of this tiger. So I have no choice but to hold on and ride.
The meeting place was a park about a forty minute walk from the Lord’s Office Building. One of the stipulations for a face to face was that the Prime Minister come on foot, and that he bring no one with him, not even a single bodyguard. For a man like Streeter this was a very big deal. He did not like exposing his skin to a risk that a diligent flunky might be able to put his body between his charge and the threat. And there was also the threat of the man he was meeting with, though he couldn’t imagine a single bodyguard that could handle that one. Maybe not even all of his bodyguards together.
The park itself was a pleasant place of placid lakes, winding walking paths and beautiful flowering plants, with skyscrapers on all sides except to the south, which was bounded by a megascraper that reached ten kilometers into the sky. There were no aircars overhead, this being a no fly zone specifically to maintain the peace of the park. Streeter found the bench that had been specifically indicated for this meeting and took a seat, trying to keep his eyes from roaming and seeing the man he did not want to see.
“You were followed,” said a voice from behind the bench.
Streeter resisted the urge to turn around, continuing to look forward. He thought it would be worth his life to see the man’s face. “That’s impossible,” he stammered.. “I was careful.”
“You are an amateur, and can never be careful enough. There was an operative following you, Naval Intelligence.”
“Lenkowski?”
“Most probably. We eliminated him. Lenkowski will never know what happened to him.”
The man slid into the bench next to the Prime Minister while Streeter was still shuddering from what the man had said. They had disappeared an Imperial Naval Intelligence Agent, in the middle of the capital city of the Empire, and no one would ever know what happened to the man. The same could happen to one Theo Streeter, Prime Minister and Duke of Coventry, if he gave these people cause.
Streeter
couldn’t stop himself from looking at the man, much as he didn’t want to give the impression of too much curiosity. The man had the same build as the one he had met before, but the face and hair was different, and he wondered if the agent used a holo projector, or a more low tech approach. Streeter breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that he was not looking at the man’s real face, and so couldn’t identify him.
“We are secure here,” said the tall, slender man, his eyes looking straight into Streeter’s. “There are no bugs, and I have a voice shield in my proximity, so no one will hear us. So, what was so important, Prime Minister,” said the man, arching an eyebrow.
“We need for Grand High Admiral Lenkowski to be silenced,” said the Prime Minister, his anger overcoming his fear. “He is saying too much to the newsies, and we need his tongue stilled.”
“Admiral Lenkowski is aboard the Valkyrie,” said the tall man, his tone one of talking to a child. “One of the biggest and most modern vessels in the Fleet. And he never leaves it. So how do you propose we get to him?”
“I don’t know,” said Streeter, his voice a whine. “You’re the assassin. Can’t you blow the ship up or something?”
“Their security is too good to get an explosive device of that power aboard,” said the agent, shaking his head. “And I for one don’t happen to have any multi-gigaton warheads, or the launch vehicles for them. You don’t know where I can get one of those, do you, Prime Minister? One sitting around unguarded, that won’t be missed.”
“Of course not, damn you,” said Streeter, in his flaring anger forgetting for a moment who he was addressing. He looked at the man wide eyed when he realized what he had done. “I’m sorry. I really am. But we need to do something about this man. He is acting above the law, and is having an adverse effect on the orderly process of the succession. Can’t you send an assassin up to his ship? Someone who can infiltrate his security and kill him?”
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 3: The Rising Storm Page 15