by F. E. Arliss
Winter and Tate arranged to meet with them in a small clearing in one of their noxiously vaporous jungles. General Kor had rigged a small force field in the clearing and cleaned the air in preparation for the meet. When Winter and Tate blinked into the bubble, the Cassarians were already there and jumped back in alarm at their sudden appearance.
Winter bathed them in warmth and goodwill and her small stature, ethereal glow, and unarmed state allowed them to settle calmly back into their prescribed ranks.
Winter bowed towards their leader, saying, “I am Viceroy Winter of the Idolum Alliance. This is Arch-Guardian Tate Quirke. We are pleased to be here. Thank you for hosting us.”
The large, heavily muscled leader stepped forward, thumped an arm to his chest and grunted, “I am Gant, leader of these warriors. This is our planet, Cassra. I do not know if I am pleased you are here yet. Make your aim known.”
Winter and Tate grinned at him, delighted with his straight forward approach. “We’re here to see if we can stop, or make a peaceful alliance with, Premiere Truego. We hope to gain your aid and allegiance to the Idolum Alliance, which forbids the types of attacks you have sustained from them,” Winter explained.
“I want no alliance with Truego. He is beyond dishonorable. I would not cross a puddle to save his hatchlings, much less him,” Gant grunted out, displaying pointed teeth and large white gums in a snarl of disgust.
Well, that was clear, Winter and Tate agreed. “How might we be of service in the repair of your colony?” Winter asked. “We have arms and food, should you have the need for it.”
“We have food. Our planet sustains us with its gas. It only kills intruders,” Gant said, gums showing again in a parody of a grin. One of his gnarled fingers pointed at them for a split second.
Winter couldn’t help it, she just liked this guy, and ended up laughing out loud. Tate joined in, and in a moment the ice had been broken and everyone was joining in. After that, it all went much easier. An agreement was come to that the Cassarians would listen to the benefits of the Alliance and ponder on joining, as the Viceroy’s Guard went further into the system to scout out Premiere Truego’s forces and intents.
According to Gant, Truego had no intent except power and destruction. Winter was sure that he was probably right, but needed to confirm it. Gant was a goldmine of information about Truego’s forces, tactics, and advisers. After delivering a load of surface-mounted cannons that would help protect Cassra from above, Sister departed onwards.
Much the same was found as they journeyed on. Most of the habitable planets were less advanced than the Cassarians. and though they had been raided and enslaved, their lack of evolution precluded Winter from believing they should be approached by the Alliance.
When they were finally able to gather enough information on Premiere Truego’s fleet and homebase, the details were appalling. Truego held a small lush moon on the outskirts of the system. It teamed with slaves and hundreds of Idolum ships littered the moon in what appeared to be small fiefdoms of power. Each Idolum commander answered to the Premiere with offerings of slaves, goods, and services. The Premiere held a large open plain with good lines of sight and a heavily fortified garrison. A separate barracks set several kilometers away and held a population of Arachnian mercenaries.
It was clear, after several days of reconnaissance, that once the slaves had been drained of their energies by the Idolum in residence, their dessicated corpses were delivered to the Arachnians and devoured. The entire moon was nothing but a slaughterhouse of debauchery.
It appeared to Winter that Premiere Truego was a psychopath intent on enjoying himself through torture and control. The Cassarians had probably been too much of a pain to conquer and had been left in peace after the effort became too much. That would change as soon as Truego’s troops ran out of food and playthings. It was truly the most repellant place Winter had ever seen. And that was saying something.
One thing that Tate observed, was that Truego was a collector of things that were unusual in this galaxy. He had the capacity for travel beyond this galaxy, but his total domination of it provided him with the life he loved. Truego loved to brag, be in control, and have others admire and fear him. His talk of conquering the universe was probably just that, talk. On the other hand, if he was allowed to use up the Calix System, his need for more playthings and entertainments would eventually drive him further afield. He was a blight.
After a conference with Queen Altum Juls and some time to plan, Winter proposed her idea for handling the situation. Neither Tate nor the Queen was in favor. On the other hand, no one had a better alternative unless it was mass killing. At least this way the other Idolum leaders in this hell hole of a galaxy would be given the opportunity to join the Alliance or change their ways. Tate slammed out of the room after the conference, and for the first time Winter saw his complete anger and frustration over things he could not control. She hoped he’d back her up on this eventually. For now, he had to come to terms with the fact that she was a killer. Winter was going to kill Premiere Truego herself.
Chapter Twenty
Assassin Again
Tate heaved a sigh of fear, frustration and anger. It was a good plan. He knew that. It was just the damage it might do to Winter’s psyche that he didn’t like. Ok, there was the dressing up as his slave and wearing scanty clothing, dancing seductively for an audience, and having to touch the loathsome slimebag Truego. That freaked him out the most.
Somehow killing the bastard was less enraging than the fact that Winter was going to have to display herself and touch the monster. Tate hung his head in self-disgust. He was doing the same damn thing her father had done. Believing at first that this would damage who Winter was, but then realizing that wasn’t true. No matter what, as the Mother had foretold, she was enough as she was. Nothing would change that. Winter was brave to undergo this operation, and it was his job to back her up on it.
Straightening his shoulders, Tate headed out to tell her how proud he was of her; that it was a good plan; that he knew she could do it; and that he would back her all the way. His woman was a marvel of ingenuity and cunning. She knew species’ motivations inside and out. Winter was Viceroy for a reason, and a damn fine one. He was Arch-Guardian for a reason, and he’d do his utmost to support her.
Finding Winter on the observation deck in quiet meditation, he slid easily into her side and scooped her into his arms. “I love you. I admire you. I’m proud of you. I will support you in any endeavor you undertake. It’s a good plan. I know you can do it. I apologize for my childish behavior earlier,” he rushed out in one long string of words. Then sat quietly waiting for her response.
Simply sighing out a long breath of relief, Winter leaned against his chest and said, “I knew I could count on you to get it.” They sat a long time simply holding each other in contentment.
When Tate hailed the Premiere’s headquarters six weeks later, the plan was ready. Awaiting the arrival of several nest ships of Idolum Alliance warriors, the crew of Sister had spent every spare minute gathering data and developing contingencies.
The Centurion, with Princess Arc Exousia Quirke and General Monsav aboard, came fully loaded with their own troops. General Behr followed with his fleet of sloops specializing in ‘security for hire’, they were known to be a deadly force, expert in dealing with ruthless dictators and cold-blooded terrorists.
General Behr’s ship, known as Lela, a ship built around one of Behr’s father’s most elite warriors, a female Amazon-like Idolum princess, stopped off on Cassra and picked up a squadron of Gant’s remaining warriors.
There were fourteen major fiefdoms, plus Premiere Truego’s fortress. It would take one squadron per fiefdom and two for the assault on Truego’s compound. Timing was everything on this raid and Princess Arc would coordinate it from aboard the Centurion.
Winter and Tate would be too busy with intrigue to be of much help except for their very dangerous and pivotal part of the plan. Sister was to be an adde
d diversion.
Winter, her newly-long hair now down to her waist and sparkling with tiny flakes of mica, was at Tate’s side. Now dressed in a red, pleather mini-dress and high-heeled, thigh-high boots, the second skin clothes would never have let anyone guess that two, spring-loaded Chicago-toothpick stilettos adorned the laced-up grommet work on the sides of the boots. Small toothpick-like blades were also inserted into the stays on her boob-crushing, push-up corset dress. Princess Arc’s friend Dag had helped her get dressed and insisted on glue-on false eyelashes. Winter had drawn the line at fake nails. They might interfere with her knife work. He’d drawn in her eyebrows, painted her eyelids a vivid teal, and blushed her cheeks and lips with red pigments. She was truly unrecognizable. Arc snapped a vid for Jeanie. She’d hopefully get a kick out of it.
Seconds later the reply came back. “We didn’t have anything half that trashy or fabulous in the ‘hell hotel’!” Winter had to agree. They’d been lucky if they’d had thread to sew the tears in the costumes back together. Let alone have an outfit with built in armor and weapon sheathes. Jeanie was right, and Winter’s spirit lightened. This was nothing like back then. This...was a whole new ballgame!
When Premiere Truego answered Sister’s hail, Tate put the call on broad-screen vid on the bridge. They’d let the freak have a good long look at what was on offer. Besides the bounties of the teck aboard Sister, Winter lounged against Tate’s side. She let the red, pleather dress ride up high on her thighs.
She’d donned bright-yellow, cheeky panties, just for a good amount of contrast. Tate almost snorted, as a small screen on the left of the large view let him see the snippet of lace that was exposed. Winter dug her nails into the side of his neck, halting his laugh mid-exhalation. Tate disliked red, hence Winter’s choice. He absolutely hated the neon color of the panties. He got the message.
Truego practically tripped over his tongue inviting them to land and share a drink with him. “And please, Captain Tate, bring your lovely companion,” the Premiere oozed out, grinning pointedly at Winter with a smugly sexual smirk on his ugly face. Tate accepted easily. He was getting to be such a good actor, Winter thought, patting him encouragingly on the back.
The compound was just as awful as Winter had imagined from the surveillance vids. One thing the vids hadn’t prepared them for was the stench. The scent of death and bodily fluids permeated the air. Fear had an odor and it was everywhere.
Remembering not to wrinkle her nose, Winter let the smell fall away. That was one of the things she had lots of practice at. Slipping into a distant parody of herself, Winter began her role. Even Tate faltered for a moment when her entire body seemed to lengthen, change, and her walk became a hip-swaying sashay of pure pretend-sensuality.
They spent the first half-hour with Truego playing word games. Tate was masterful as an Idolum General wanting a homeworld and his willingness to pay for that privilege rang out as truly as any simpleton’s desire. The Premiere was sure he was easy pickings. In the meantime, he’d steal the dimwit’s slave girl too.
As food and drink flowed, the Premiere asked Tate if his companion would dance for them. Tate agreed. What Premiere Truego thought were meaningless whispers of sex-talk in Tate’s ear from Winter, were actually just passing mind-thoughts on what Winter had read from the minds of those around them. She was also broadcasting her thoughts to Princess Arc Exousia, as they’d practiced for the last few days with a mind-connection.
The Idolum Alliance squadrons were in position. Premiere Truego’s men had also begun their assault on Sister and were presently trying to breach her high-tensile armor. To no avail, the Princess added dryly. But the plan was a go. Winter and Tate could proceed.
Winter leapt into the center of the floor in an acrobatic display of sheer high-heeled killer proficiency. Truego applauded and settled back in his throne-like chair, preparing to enjoy himself. Several of his female slaves cast Winter evil looks of mal-intent. She smiled at them sweetly.
Slowly swirling around on one pinpoint heel, she slung her long silvery-white hair in a flipping whirl of sexuality. Then, arching her back into an elegant back-bend, she slowly raised her legs over her head, walked a few steps on her hands, then somersaulted upright, letting her legs fly open revealing the disgustingly vulgar yellow-lace panties. Winter could see Tate’s lips curl in a tiny smile.
He’d aided her in the practice routine earlier and had enjoyed helping her find the right spacing for the Idolums jointed ribs. Having run her hands over his torso repeatedly had had them both grinning at each other in delight. Tate really did have the most sculpted body. Winter wasn’t going to complain and might have dragged out the practice a bit longer than necessary.
She’d amused him earlier by quoting a line from an ancient vid Jeanie had told her about. A hooker had been swirling from a pole doing a lot of leg-open dancing. A guy invited for lunch with a friend, trying to eat a soggy sandwich and fries, had looked up, frowned, then snapped to the dancer, “Shut your legs sweetheart, I’m not a gynecologist!”
Truego was practically panting by this time. Winter, playing to that, danced over to him, swaying erotically, then slid her arms along the back of his chair, twirled around him slowly and then gracefully lowered herself onto the arms of his chair. Letting the ornately-carved arms take her full weight, and frankly, trying to avoid having to touch the repulsive lump of flesh, Winter arched backwards over his knees, using her calf muscles to hold her position.
Undulating from side to side, Winter slowly sat up and leaned forward. Pushing her breasts a little higher. As she reached down her thighs, she blew little gusts of air into Truego’s ears. Leaning to one side, she swayed gently back and forth, letting Truego find the rhythm she was using. He was so busy looking at her breasts just inches from his nose, that he failed to see her withdraw the small handles from the laces of her boots.
The handles just looked like toys. The pearlized handles glowed in the lights and none of the girls watching knew what they really were. Gently, Winter swayed to one side and place one handle against Truego’s ribs. Repeating the gesture with the other side, she applied just enough pressure that she could feel the rippling of his ribs through his tunic.
Leaning in as though for a kiss, Winter put every ounce of strength she had behind the pearl handles and pressed the hidden levers at the top with enough force to make sure they released. No one even heard a sound as the slender blades slipped easily between the Premiere’s ribs and then disappeared back into the handles.
Winter swayed again, throwing one leg over the side of the chair and twirling away from the slumped Truego as though in a ballerina’s pirouette. Eyes followed her, not bothering to pay much attention to the Premiere or the now disappeared Captain Tate. Winter swung into a low curtsey to the room, then slipped gracefully out through a side door. Her mites Cam and Lance hustled her aboard a hover-scooter and they were gone into the darkness in seconds.
In unison, all over the cesspool of a planet, Idolum Alliance squadrons leapt into action. In most cases the fighting was over within minutes, with communications stations being the first things hit.
It took a full minute for the warriors and slaves in the assembly room to realize that the slumped Premiere wasn’t just relaxed from the dance. By then, it was too late. Idolum Alliance warriors and a squad of Cassarians, had already overpowered the fort’s defenses and were entering the central hall. Some resisted and were killed. Many did not resist.
Later, as a freshly showered, changed, and newly shaved, bald-headed Winter strode through the ranks of prisoners, she swept her mind through the lined-up ranks of prisoners and slaves. Tate held her hand, and supported her with his energy. Her Osmirian powers easily read the intent of prisoners in minutes. With one point of a finger, she rooted out ill-intent, murderous minds, and evil intentions.
What Queen Altum Juls did with those dissenters she would never know. Well, she probably would know, if only by accident someday, when that knowledge flashed to her in a
brief moment of unshielded rest from the Queen. For now, Winter didn’t care. She wanted to go home. Away from this sordid, soiled planet.
Many of the Idolum here were simply homeless and needed a place to call home. Most would need a ‘retraining’ of sorts. That would be left up to Princess Athena, Altum Juls daughter. Her nest was good at that. Once they’d been educated and agreed to allegiance to the Alliance, they could be rehomed to better places with a guiding presence from some other Alliance steward.
After that, this planet with no name could be left to heal for a few decades, then re-populated. That would also give the Cassarians time to heal their planet and be in a better position to ally with the new inhabitants of the soon to be deserted planet.
Tate scooped Winter up in his arms and took her through to their quarters. Nestling her against his side on the shelf bed, soft tendrils began to wind around them. Cocooned in healing care, he whispered to her, “Damn girl, I had no idea you could dance like that. No getting out of the parties on Renegar now. We’re gonna win every dance contest they throw our way now.”