Spoils of War

by Terry Mixon

  There were whispered discussions about what had happened. No one seemed to have any clear theory about what was taking place. It wasn’t covered by the crèche syllabus, so One Twenty-Four had no clue.

  Perhaps once Keeper finished, she’d explain what had occurred and why. It was also possible that she wouldn’t say a word about it. It might end up being one of the mysteries that occasionally swept through the crèche.

  When Keeper finally returned to the hallway and gestured for them to proceed to the classroom, almost three hours had passed. Dutifully, each of the girls marched to their seats and stood and waited for Keeper to give them permission to sit.

  The large room was made to hold two hundred students. At this point, about forty percent of those seats were empty. That was a grim reminder that as many of two-thirds of their starting number would likely die before they completed their training.

  Keeper walked up to her desk and stood beside it, facing them. “You may sit.”

  Once they’d done so, she continued. “I’m certain that you are all curious about what just occurred. In response to that curiosity, I will ask you a question. What is the main difference between myself and each of you?”

  Several hands shot up, and Keeper selected Sixty-Three.

  The girl stood. “You’re mature, Keeper.”

  “What exactly makes me mature? Is it just the fact that I’m taller?”

  The girl shook her head. “No, Keeper. Your body has developed in ways that ours have not. We’re still children, and you’re an adult.”

  “Correct. You may sit.”

  Keeper walked in front of her desk and crossed her arms over her chest. That move emphasized the fact that she had breasts. One Twenty-Four had always wondered when and how her body would change in that same way.

  That was hardly the only difference, either. Keeper’s hips were fuller than hers. Where she and her crèche mates were slender, Keeper was tall, muscular, and had a more rounded figure.

  The purpose of that had always eluded her. Why not just have adults be like the children, only larger?

  “As you can see, as an adult woman, I have breasts, and my body is proportioned differently than yours,” Keeper said as her eyes scanned the room. “The reason for that goes back to the dawning of humanity. As you already know, in the base caste, women gestate children inside their own bodies. The changes you see in me are a reminder of how the female body prepares for that task.

  “Thankfully, it’s a burden that women of the Andrea Line are not forced to bear. It’s a dirty, ugly process that you should be grateful that you don’t need to know the details of. You’re blessed that you were created from our template and raised inside the crèche.”

  One Twenty-Four raised her hand. She was hesitant in asking a question, but not in the gesture itself. One didn’t show indecision inside the crèche. One committed to one’s course of action and carried through as if the outcome was inevitable.

  When Keeper gestured toward her, she stood. “How does what occurred to us this morning connect with that, Keeper?”

  Keeper nodded. “I injected a biodegradable capsule that will release hormones in a controlled fashion over the next few months to initiate these changes inside your body. The somatic stimulator was required because of the location and depth of the injection. This marks the beginning of your transformation from child to woman.

  “Your genetics are not the same as the base caste, so the development does not automatically begin for you without this intervention. It was too cumbersome for the designers to make an automatic mechanism for the transition between childhood and adulthood that didn’t introduce undesirable randomization into the process.

  “This maturation is required for your brains to fully mature. It is our single concession to the genetics of those who came before us and a burden that we must bear.”

  At that point, One Twenty-Four should’ve sat down, but she wasn’t done. She still had questions. She decided to risk asking them.

  “What changes are we going to see in our bodies, Keeper? Other than our brains, why do we need things like breasts? I don’t understand the purpose for them.”

  Keeper considered her for several long seconds and then nodded. “I will grant the validity of your follow-up questions. The original purpose of breasts was to produce nutrients for infants. The designers also found the female form—and the male one—to be intrinsically pleasing, and so desired to maintain the appearance of the base caste from which we were refined.

  “Another form of maturity that you note in me is that my hips are wider. This originally promoted a safer experience during childbirth. As we’ve previously discussed, a child of the base caste is gestated inside a woman’s body.”

  One Twenty-Four’s stomach churned at the reminder. Nothing had been discussed about the process of how that worked, and for that, she was grateful. It sounded parasitic.

  Keeper gestured for One Twenty-Four to sit. “These changes are not going to be comfortable or without distress for you, but they are not without their benefits. In fact, they also serve a recreational purpose.

  “While we are incapable of breeding, we still possess all of the necessary sexual organs to copulate with males. Such brings pleasure to both parties, and, when done with the proper person for the appropriate reason, it can also benefit the Line.

  “Once you’ve physically matured, we will have a deeper discussion on the subject of what is involved with copulation so that you may better serve the Line by making good alliances. Men—even within the ruling caste of the Singularity—are susceptible to being influenced by a woman’s body.”

  One Twenty-Four knew intellectually what men were. They must be different than women in some manner, though the details of how weren’t exactly clear.

  It must have to do with copulation—whatever that was—and the process by which men and women combined genetic material inside a female body. If she understood Keeper correctly, her body was compatible with the physical process, but she was protected from the underlying burden.

  What that actually meant would require more questions at some other point and deeper reflection.

  Keeper walked behind her desk. “Now, to conclude this lecture so that we may go have lunch, the process of maturing is not an instantaneous one. Over the next several years, your body will continue to change. You will grow taller, your breasts will begin to develop, and your hips will widen.

  “Gradually, you’ll make the transition between child and woman. Since you all come from the Andrea template, I can tell you that you will finish the majority of your physical maturation by the time you’re fifteen. There will still be some growth as you put on mass, but you’ll be very much like me at that point.

  “The development of your brain will take another decade, but you need not worry about that. The process of education will continue even after you’ve left the crèche. We will guide you until you are fit to serve the Line.”

  “The maturation of your body will not require any further adjustments on my part. Your reproductive organs, though nonfunctional in the original sense, will create the necessary hormones now that I have initiated the changes.”

  One Twenty-Four was unaware of what organs were utilized for reproduction and was still stumped at how the process was supposed to work. How could a male gain access to her organs outside of an infirmary?

  Well, she supposed it didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to meet a man for at least another decade. More likely two.

  By the time she did, she’d know what needed to be done. She didn’t have time to waste on the formalities of the process. This information—while interesting—wasn’t core to her survival.

  Keeper had given them the background information, and One Twenty-Four could already tell that there would be no more discussion on the matter for the time being. This was simply a notification on her part so that the coming changes wouldn’t dismay them.

  One Twenty-Four was looking forward to growing larger. The ad
ditional muscle mass would be useful. The breasts were potentially awkward and might negatively impact her balance. She’d have to compensate for that.

  Now, she had more important things to worry about. Like whatever Thirty-One had planned.

  She suspected that her enemy was working on some plan that would have negative consequences for her, and she wanted to be ready. She’d have to react immediately when Thirty-One executed her plan. Her life depended on it.

  The next day, Anders led Grace back to the engineering section of the ship, where there were a couple of cabins available for use by the engineering team. One of them was under guard by a shaggy-haired crewman, who nodded to the captain as he approached.

  “Everything looks good, sir. Other than him taking food, he hasn’t requested to be let out or caused any problems.”

  “Good work, Jester,” Anders said. “We’ve got this covered for a bit. Go grab something to eat and be back in twenty minutes.”

  The man nodded and hurried off.

  “How do you want to play this?” Anders asked as he turned toward her. “He’s not stupid. As soon as he sees you, he’s going to know that you’re not Fleet. How much of the truth do we tell him?”

  She considered that. “If we need to drop him off before we get to the Singularity, I’d rather know now. I say we let him in on the full story, and he can decide whether not he wants a cut. He is getting a cut, isn’t he?”

  “I don’t have a personal objection, so long as he pulls his weight. His insider knowledge could be advantageous. If we do as well as we hope, that could mean he can retire. Of course, the same is true for us.”

  Grace shrugged. “Let’s play it by ear. If it looks like he’s going to guess most of this anyway, then we’ll just fill him in. Give him the option of getting out now with whatever he has saved versus helping us and potentially scoring a much bigger haul.”

  Rather than responding, Anders rapped his knuckles against the door. There was a muffled response, and he opened the door.

  The quarters inside were small but tidy. The man dressed in odd-looking civilian clothes sitting in the chair by the built-in desk was already rising to his feet. He was relatively short, coming in at about chin level for Grace.

  He wore his dark hair tied back in a long ponytail and had a meticulously trimmed beard. Grace wasn’t sure what the style was called, but it was somewhat pointed and had a vaguely sinister look. His complexion wasn’t as dark as what she’d inherited from her Pakistani mother, but it wasn’t light either.

  The man’s eyes were dark brown—very much like her own—and they were sharp. He was assessing her even as she stepped into the compartment, virtually ignoring Anders.

  “And the plot is revealed,” he murmured loudly enough for them to hear. “I’ve been wondering exactly what was going on, and now I understand. You’re going to use my ship for one of those cross-border raids, aren’t you?”

  Anders raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

  The man gestured toward Grace. “Even discounting her hairstyle, this young woman is obviously a warrior. One cannot conceal the grace of a trained fighter.

  “I’ve also been wondering why the rest of my crew had to be dismissed and why I was being kept on board but locked away here in the chief engineer’s cabin. Now I understand.”

  Grace responded before Anders could. “My name is Grace Tolliver. Might I inquire with whom I’m speaking?”

  The man put a hand to his chest and bowed deeply. “My apologies. It was rude of me not to introduce myself, since Anders failed at even that simple courtesy in such a spectacular fashion. I am Kayden Harmon of Zarustra, owner of this fine vessel, though I pay my meager earnings to the bank just like everyone else. Am I correct in assuming that you’re an Imperial Marine officer?”

  His eyes narrowed slightly. “It’s difficult to judge ages with beings that use medical nanites, but I’d say that you’re probably in the lower spectrum of rank. A lieutenant, perhaps?”

  Grace granted him a smile. “You’re very perceptive, Kayden. May I call you that? I was a lieutenant once, but now I’m just a civilian. Do you mind if we sit down?”

  The man straightened and gestured toward the compact room. “Everything I possess is quite literally yours. If you’d care to use my bunk, then we can all sit. Space is always somewhat limited on a ship.”

  After they’d settled in, Grace gave the man her full attention. “Let’s say for hypothetical purposes that we are going on a raid. How would you respond to the news?”

  “I’d say that someone owes me a ship and future income, first of all. I’ll never be able to trade anywhere near the Singularity again. The intelligence service will hunt diligently for me, so it’s a good thing that I don’t have many close friends or family.

  “Am I perturbed that you’re going to act against the Singularity? Not at all. Our rulers have never been good to those from the base caste. All I’m concerned about is that I have a future once this is over.”

  Grace shot Anders a glance and then nodded. “That’s something we can work with. It’s within our authority to purchase your ship for reasonable market value. As for the future, that really depends on how much help you intend to give.

  “Each of us gets a share of anything we capture or destroy. While Anders and I are going to be getting the largest shares, I’m willing to cut you in with a second-tier share if you freely share your knowledge of the Singularity and their weaknesses.

  “If you can help us refine our targeting and get us to where we need to get safely, that could earn us all a lot of money. More than enough to live comfortably for the rest of your life somewhere inside the Empire. Maybe you can buy a new ship or two and keep trading.”

  The man nodded. “I’ll cooperate enthusiastically under those stipulations. I know that Imperial Intelligence keeps me on a short leash. They’re right to distrust someone from the Singularity.

  “But in this case, I have no love for those that rule, and I’m more than willing to guide you to a location that will be harmful to them if it’s lost. It’s going to make me sad that regular people will suffer, but I have to look out for myself. No one else is going to do so.”

  Grace turned to face Anders. “What do you think?”

  Anders considered the man for a moment and then shrugged. “I think that we should keep him on board. Everything I’ve read indicates that he’s been more than cooperative with Imperial Intelligence. He really doesn’t have much love for the Singularity. He’s in it for the money, and promising him a share of what we’re going to take is a good incentive.

  “He has knowledge of how everything works inside the area of the Singularity that we’re going to strike. If anyone knows of a good spot to poke them, it’s going to be him. And since we don’t have to actually capture anything for him to be paid, I suspect he’ll be in favor of a swift hit-and-run raid that destroys the target and gets us safely away.”

  “Then let’s cut him in,” Grace said. “If you were going to pick a target that had a high value, yet was easily reachable and low on the end of military protection, what exactly would you pick, Kayden?”

  The man’s eyes narrowed slightly as he considered the question. “I’ll need to examine my files in greater detail, but there are several trading hubs that would have a large amount of valuable cargo passing through. Any of them would be quite harmful to the local economies.

  “But if you’re looking for something to cause long-term damage strategically, you’re going to want to find something that affects as many systems as possible. The Singularity isolates each system’s economy so that they’re all dependent on interstellar trade. No single world is entirely self-sufficient.

  “If we can identify a linchpin whose damage will cause great havoc for a large number of worlds, then the repercussions of crippling it would make for a worthwhile target. I assume that the Empire would value such highly.”

  Grace nodded. “They’ll value the damage to the economy. They
obviously won’t pass us full value for something like that, but it would still be worth a lot.”

  “Then I’ll narrow the target list to linchpins like that. I have an excellent understanding of the economics inside the sector where I traded. I worked mostly on the fringe but came inside the Singularity in that area to trade on several worlds.”

  He leaned back in his chair a little and pursed his lips contemplatively. “If I’m thorough, it will take me several weeks to refine the data and identify information from my files that will give us what we need.

  “If I compare that to systems that don’t historically have a large military presence, I should be able to improve our chances of getting in and out again without having to fight. We need to get in, strike the most propitious target, and then get back out again.”

  Grace smiled. “That’s good, but I want you to think a little bit harder. Pick a target like you just suggested but look at any secondary targets along our likely routes of retreat. We don’t have to capture something to get paid for it. Yes, seized goods get a higher percentage, but even a destroyed orbital is worth something.

  “If you can find two or perhaps even three systems that we’re going to pass through that are lightly guarded, it won’t take us that much more time to destroy any secondary targets. That’s going to make all of our retirements better.”

  “Would you retire?” Kayden asked. “You’re still a young woman. I’m going to assume that you lead a group of marines, so if you succeed in this mission, you might return to your duties. Perhaps with medals or promotions, but I doubt you’re going to stop serving your empire. How will the money help you?”

  She shrugged. “Everyone retires. Just because I’ve got a good career now doesn’t mean that I’m going to have one in the future. What if I’m injured? They might be able to fix me up, but I’ll be cashiered. Having a nest egg means never having to worry that I’m going to be in a position where I have to rely on the charity of others. I’m not mercenary, but I’m not stupid either.”