by M. D. Cooper
The Belgara was close to Luxum, just a few light seconds from the planet Belgium, a small blue orb barely visible to the left of the star. That would be where he would take up residence for the following months.
“You see?” Constantine said, glancing at Kell. “Nothing to it. And before long, we’ll have hundreds of gates at our disposal, tools to spread Nietzschea’s dominion across the stars.”
Kell looked visibly relieved, and nodded silently for a moment, before finally saying, “Yes, My Emperor.”
Across the room, Garza was staring at Constantine, and the emperor wondered what the general was truly thinking. Something in the other man’s gaze made him think that Garza desperately wished to be the one sitting on a throne.
* * * * *
A day later, Constantine stood within the west viewing room in Casa Mons at the top of Belgium’s Mount Genevia, gazing out the windows at the Luxum as it drifted down toward the horizon.
Casa Mons had been the private residence of the last Genevian president, and somehow had escaped destruction when Genevia fell to the Nietzschean forces. Though he’d taken a full-sensory walkthrough of the estate after the world of Belgium had been captured, Constantine had never visited.
Truth be told, he’d never visited any conquered territory in Genevia. Until now, he’d had no need.
“My Emperor,” a voice came from the entrance behind him. “Your guest has arrived.”
“Send her in,” he said without taking his eyes from the view that stretched out before him.
A few seconds later, the sound of strange, snapping footfalls reached his ears. With slow precision, the footsteps crossed the room and stopped a few meters behind him.
“Emperor Constantine.” The woman’s voice contained no deference, no hint that she was at all subservient.
He was surprised that she’d be so bold. Especially given that the woman was Genevian.
“Danella,” he said after a few moments, deigning to turn rather than demand she come around before him—though it rankled him to do so. Despite the impropriety, he was more curious to see her with his own eyes than he was annoyed at her lack of proper deference.
Genevians rarely understood their place. That was a large part of why the conflict with their people had begun in the first place.
The first thing that struck him about Danella was that she was tall—almost impossibly tall, over two and a half meters without the heels she wore, which pushed her over three.
Or maybe those are her feet? It’s hard to tell where woman ends and machine begins—if any of it is actually machine. It could all be biomods.
Part of the difficulty in knowing her true nature was that, excepting her face, Danella’s skin was covered in small, iridescent scales that shifted ever so slightly, creating the illusion that they were crawling all over her body.
On second thought, I think her scales are crawling all over her body.
She shifted before him, a gesture that seemed to imply that he should take his time looking her over. He obliged and took a step back, starting with her ‘feet’, which ended in fine, needle-sharp points. From there, her legs rose half a meter before coming to the first knee, then a second, and finally a third before her legs met her torso. As his gaze trailed up her lower limbs, he realized that she was actually crouching to fit in the room.
Her arms, if they could be called that, were nearly just as long—at least two meters from shoulder to their own needle-like points. They weren’t resting on the ground, but he suspected that she had a-grav systems in them to help balance her decidedly insectile body.
Adding to that impression, a scorpion-like tail rose up behind her, and though her torso wasn’t much larger than a normal human’s, it sported six breasts running down the front.
Impractical, he thought as he took in that modification. Granted, much about this…person…is.
“Do you like it, Emperor Constantine?” Danella finally asked. “Just a little creation I made the other day.”
“I suppose it’s interesting,” Constantine replied. “Do you modify yourself often?”
The woman laughed, and there was a strange, almost insectile clacking to the sound. “My dear emperor, the human body is the greatest canvas ever made. Why would I eschew painting on my own?”
“What if you make a mistake?” Constantine asked.
A look of mock horror came across Danella’s face, and the emperor found himself mesmerized by her eyes, which he now realized were almost twice as large as they should be.
“Mistakes?” She shook her head vigorously. “I do not make mistakes. I’ll admit to a few happy accidents here and there, but certainly not mistakes.”
“I must admit,” Constantine said, turning back to the windows and the view of Luxum sliding below the horizon. “I’m surprised you’ve done so well in the wake of Genevia’s fall. I thought I would have to hunt you down in some dark corner of the system. Imagine my surprise to find that you weren’t in hiding at all.”
“I’m a very useful person,” Danella replied. “While you Nietzscheans aren’t so interested in the types of mods I specialize in, many of your people have taken a liking to…well, let’s just call them pets.”
Constantine was aware of the practice. While he considered it to be foppery, Nietzschean morality had no proscription against turning people into things. If a person was able to be subjugated, then by the master morality, they should be.
Slaves will be slaves.
Despite her skill, that’s all Danella was. Not only a slave to Nietzschea, but a slave to her own predilections.
Both carnal and psychological it would seem.
“Is it true what they say?” Danella asked as she moved closer, her needlepoint feet making their strange snapping sound as she crept closer. “Are you a virgin, Emperor Constantine?”
A smile crept across the emperor’s lips as he saw the twelve guards in the room lift their weapons and take aim at the strange woman who was creeping toward their ruler.
In addition to the human guards, there were several dozen automated defense systems in the room, each one more than enough to kill Danella before she laid a single…whatever on him.
He sent out a signal to the guards’ armor, triggering a system that would mute his and Danella’s words, as well as mask their lip movements, ensuring their privacy.
“It is, Danella. I have no need of carnal pleasures. They are beneath me.”
The woman’s chittering laugh sounded once more. “Rumor has it that you surround yourself with a lot of naked people. That seems like carnal pleasure to me.”
“Do you believe all the rumors you hear?”
“Most,” Danella replied. “People like to hide more than they show, which means there are secrets everywhere. And usually, even if the rumors aren’t true, it’s fun to think they are.”
“Interesting. I wonder about what the rumors say of you.”
“Rumors? About me?” Danella said with a mock gasp. “Oh, do tell! Those are the best kind.”
Constantine pursed his lips, suddenly annoyed with the banter. “I need you to build me a new body, woman.”
“Oh?” Danella’s eyebrows rose. “Are you looking to try something more…interesting?”
“No,” Constantine shook his head. “I want it to be exactly like this one.”
“A clone?”
“No. A new body for me. Then this one will perish.”
One of Danella’s long arms rose to her lips, and she tapped it slowly. “Interesting…how very interesting. I can’t wait to begin.”
EKING INTEL
STELLAR DATE: 02.05.8950 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Marauder shuttle, Dekar Station
REGION: Parsons System, Old Genevia, Nietzschean Empire
Chase couldn’t help but smile at the surly expressions on the faces of the other passengers in the shuttle. It was quite the eclectic group: seven prisoners hunkered in their seats
under the watchful gaze of the Kellies, Shoshin, and Tex.
The row ahead of Chase was occupied by Pierce, Stationmaster Becka, and the Nietzschean garrison’s CO, a man named Idar. Twice now, Becka had tried to speak to the others, but whenever she opened her mouth, Keli tapped the woman on the head with the barrel of her GNR, clearly enjoying a little passive intimidation.
In the row behind him sat the captains of the four ships that had surrendered. Sergeant Crunch was in the process of leading sweeps through each craft, while Lieutenant Chris was consolidating control over Dekar.
Such as it is, Chase thought with a soft laugh. The key to holding Dekar—at least in the short-term—was to let as many sleeping dogs lie as possible. He’d instructed Chris to ensure nothing egregious occurred, but not to worry about the never-ending petty theft that was the status quo across the station.
With any luck, Stationmaster Becka could be brought around to the right side and could continue to administer Dekar—with a few changes.
Chase chewed on his cheek thinking about what he’d like to do on the station as compared to what he’d actually be able to manage in any reasonable timeframe.
That was the general problem with the revolution they were bringing: it required the Genevian populace to rise up and do what was right. Something easier said than done—especially when a single Marauder destroyer wouldn’t displace the decades-old fear of the Nietzschean military.
What he really needed to do was ferret out who the resistance leaders were…. If there were any. During his time on Dekar, Chase had never seen any signs of an organized underground that was actively opposing the Niets. But that was where the seven people in the shuttle with him would come into play; one of them would know something about Genevian resistance, if for no other reason than that they’d been tasked with taking it out.
Or have taken it out already.
That caused him to ponder Sandra. The woman was the senior captain in what was referred to as the Parsons People’s Militia. A quick inquiry in Dekar’s databases told a different story. The Niets called them ‘Parsons Auxiliary Strike Force 7’, and they answered to a Colonel Ras, who operated out of a base further insystem.
It wasn’t quite like Sandra was in the Nietzschean military, but it was close.
Far too close.
Chase laughed aloud, not caring that everyone on the shuttle turned to look at him.
That same thought had occurred to him as well. There had also been something in Vargo’s voice when the lieutenant had briefed Chase on Sandra. The lieutenant respected the woman and wanted to trust her.
But people change. A lot.
One never knew what leverage existed behind the scenes, driving a person to do the things they did. It could be anything from family members under threat to simple guilt.
It could even be straight-up mental coercion.
That sort of thing wasn’t the Nietzscheans’ modus operandi, but the Marauders had seen the enemy do a number of very un-Niet-like things of late.
Chase replied.
He chewed on that for a moment, wondering what the AI was implying, but decided not to pursue it.
I’ve got more than enough on my mind. He shook his head.
Chase shook his head again, then turned to look out the porthole as the shuttle finally eased into the Asora’s bay.
“No, I guess not,” he whispered.
Chase lapsed into silence as the shuttle docked, remaining in his seat as the prisoners were led out, following behind Keli.
There, Warrant Officers Glen and Lexi waited in the bay, along with Vargo. All three stood stone-faced as they surveyed the ship’s new guests, though Chase noted that Vargo’s eyes lingered on Sandra overlong.
“OK,” Chase said once his feet were on the deck. “Run them all through the autodocs, and then send me Pierce first.”
The gangster tossed her head, long black hair swinging around as she turned to regard him with her steely gaze. “I knew you liked me best.”
“Or I want to get the worst over with as quickly as possible,” he replied before turning to Vargo. “Walk with me, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir,” Vargo sailad.
Chase led him into the corridor. Once there, he turned right toward the forward lift bank.
Glancing at the RR-4, he asked, “Anything I need to know about you and Captain Sandra?”
Vargo blew out a long breath. “Well, there never was a me and Sandra—though I wouldn’t have said no if she’d ever reciprocated. I’d like to think she was into me, but she was always ‘duty first’. All about self-sacrifice.”
“That’s good to hear,” Chase said.
Vargo laughed. “What, that she rejected me?”
“Well, that’s a silver lining.” Chase flashed a grin at Vargo. “But no, that she values honor and duty. Means that she might be working with the Niets as a way to protect the Genevians.”
“That thought had crossed my mind as well.”
“And?”
“Do I think it’s likely? Maybe. She sort of insinuated that a bunch of mercs smashing their way through Parsons wouldn’t be good for the people.”
Chase snorted. “Like everything’s sunshine and roses with the Niets in command. I bet she’s not been to Dekar’s warrens. There’re people down there who haven’t had a proper meal in years. It’s just a big social experiment to the Niets.”
“You never know, she may have visited those places. She was always a bit of a bleeding heart.”
“Reminds me of someone else I know,” Chase replied, his lips twisting into a wry smile.
“One of the colonel’s best qualities.” Vargo laughed and looked up at the overhead, taking a deep breath before lapsing into silence.
The two men reached the lift, and Chase turned to Vargo. “I’m curious. Why do you follow Rika? You’ve been around. A lot. I’m certain that you’re older than your records say. Easily one-fifty, right?”
Vargo gave conspiratorial wink. “One ninety-two in a few days.”
“Shit!” Chase exclaimed. “You might just be the oldest person in the company.”
“Dunno,” the lieutenant replied. “I don’t keep track of that stuff.”
“And my question?” Chase said as they stepped into the lift.
“Well, I got assigned to the Golden
Lark, and then to Rika’s company. Then after we took these ships, she made me captain of the Asora. The rest is history.”
“Funny man,” Chase shook his head. “You know what I mean. Why Rika? She’s just a kid to you.”
Vargo shrugged as the lift began to rise. “I like Rika’s style. She kicks ass, takes names, but doesn’t abuse her power. She’s not a bully—which is what too many people turn into once they get a taste of power. Most people are destroyed by what she’s gone through. With Rika, it only made her stronger. I admire her.”
Something in the way he spoke made Chase wonder if the lieutenant was being somewhat self-referential.
“Of course,” Vargo said, favoring Chase with a wink. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m nuts for following a thirty-year-old into war.”
“She’s done better than a lot of others before her.”
The lift doors opened, and the two men walked out.
“For sure. Better than I did, at least,” Vargo admitted.
“Let’s grab a bite in the officer’s mess,” Chase suggested as he led the way down the corridor. “You can tell me all about Sandra and how you’re still pining for her.”
Vargo snorted. “I think that ship has crossed the heliopause. But maybe I’ll have some useful insight.”
* * * * *
“You can eat something if you want,” Chase said to Pierce, gesturing to the servitor standing near the bulkhead.
“I’ll pass,” the woman said as she settled into the chair across from him.
“We just put you through our autodoc. We’re not trying to poison you or anything.”
Pierce snorted and shook her head. “Yeah, I get that. But just because I don’t think you’re going to poison me doesn’t mean I want to break bread with you.”
“Huh,” Chase shook his head. “And here I thought we had a growing rapport back on Dekar. You were going to tell me all the things I wanted to know to gain control of Dekar and Parsons.”