by Brian Dorsey
“Well,” replied Astra, “what do you have?”
“Most of those that hit the recreation houses are company and field grade officers. They usually come in waves, most likely between their duty cycles. They hit the bars for a few hours and finish up the night at the recreation houses…usually with two to three girls.”
“Disgusting,” interjected General Vispa.
“Really,” replied Astra with a laugh. She knew Vispa had his own private stable of whores. “Don’t hide jealousy by feigning contempt.” Content with humiliating the general, she turned back toward the mysterious man. “Continue, Mr. Artemis,” said Astra.
“The flag and staff officers occasionally visit the recreation houses and a few have offered to pay to bring the girls back to their ships.”
“Have any agreed?” asked Lucretia.
“From what I hear, a few have begged to go, but their house managers have refused. Some have still tried…a few have managed to sneak out with their Doran lovers.”
“Really?” replied Astra.
“Apparently the Dorans love the ladies and the ladies love the Dorans,” said Artemis with a smile.
“Then that will be the way,” said Astra. “Mr. Artemis, contact your Association friends. I want their best female agents in every recreation house in every city the Dorans frequent. I want the most beautiful, manipulative, and heartless agents. Money is not an option.”
“As you wish, ProConsul,” replied Artemis.
“And I do not want them wasting their time with any Dorans below the rank of Colonel. Their job will be to get an invitation by one of the officers to join them on their ship. And they will say yes.”
“But what about the house managers?” asked Sarius.
Astra slowly looked toward the senator. She said nothing but stared at him coldly.
“I will make sure they are compliant,” added Artemis.
“Thank you,” said Astra, still staring at Sarius. “I doubt the manager of a stable of prostitutes would say no to an agent of the ProConsul, do you, Senator?”
“Of course not, ProConsul,” replied Sarius.
“Mr. Artemis,” continued Astra, “please go to the communications officer and send the message to the Association Council via electron spin.”
“As you wish, ProConsul,” replied Artemis, who quickly turned and exited the room.
“Do we have to deal with that trash?” asked Lucretia as the door slid shut behind Artemis. “And, please forgive the question, ProConsul, but why do you call him ‘mister’? No one even knows his real name.”
“That trash, Senator Lucretia, just offered me information that your agents have not been able to obtain the entire time the fucking Dorans have been in orbit around our planet,” retorted Astra, the volume of her voice increasing as she spoke. “And the fact he does not have a name is part of the reason he is effective. As is the fact he is effective is why I pay him a general’s salary. Does that satisfy your curiosity, Senator?”
“Yes, ProConsul. I meant—”
“Excellent,” replied Astra, activating her communications panel. “Pilot, get me off this damn ship.”
Chapter 5
Martin clinched her jaw and her right arm tensed as the medical tech removed the regrowth chamber from her left hand. “Damn it,” she grumbled as Dr. Travarus pressed against the skin of her new appendage.
“It will be a little sensitive at first,” said Travarus.
“A little? That’s not what I’d call it,” replied Martin, wincing. “It feels like it’s on fire.”
“Everything is new, Paladin. The skin…the nerves. Your hand has to relearn what each sensation is and right now it senses everything as pain.”
“Awesome. How long will this last?”
“Usually a few weeks, but the more you use it, the sooner you will regain proper sensation and full function. You will just need to work through the pain.”
“The story of my life,” mouthed Martin. “When I can start working it?”
“Immediately. As long as you can stand the pain. We will have you attend therapy three times a week until function is returned, but the most important thing is that you just start using it.”
“How long until I’m back to 100%?”
“For normal replacement it usually take about 4-6 months. But you, of course, are getting the best care. You should be in fighting shape in three months.”
“I’m in fighting shape now. And I need to be 100% in less than two.”
“That will be entirely up to you. But for now, you have another appointment.”
“With whom?” she asked. The sound of the medical bay opening drew Martin’s attention. She looked up to see a Praetorian standing at the entrance. It was an officer, not the usual enlisted errand boys sent by Astra Varus. “Of course.”
“Paladin Martin,” boomed the Praetorian officer. “The ProConsul requests your presence.”
“Well if it’s a request—”
“It is not.”
“No shit, Praetorian,” shot back Martin. “Do they remove your sense of humor with your brains in the same operation?”
The Praetorian stood motionless at the entrance. “The ProConsul is waiting.”
“Well, we can’t have that? Can we?”
“No we cannot, Paladin. Now please—”
“I’m coming, you fucking robot,” she cursed. “Just let—” She grimaced as her new hand pressed against the arm of her chair as she stood. She shot a glance toward Dr. Travarus.
“Keep using it,” replied the doctor. “And don’t keep the ProConsul waiting.”
“Thanks for the advice,” said Martin, turning toward the Praetorian. “Alright precious, lead the way,” she added as she walked past the officer and stopped in the center of the passageway.
“Why must you always be so petulant and tactless?” asked the Praetorian as began to walk.
“Well, Lieutenant…what is it…Oxia,” replied Martin. “My job isn’t to talk pretty and kiss First Family asses like yours.”
Oxia stopped and turned to face Martin. The tall Praetorian looked down toward the Paladin. Martin returned his gaze.
“Even the most ferocious dog needs to be put down when it forgets who its master is…maybe you should remember that, Paladin Martin. And that’s all you are…a loud, brash, and undomesticated bitch.”
Martin stepped close. “Why Praetorian, are you sweet on me?” she smiled. “Talking pretty words like that make me all gooey inside.”
“You’re a perfect example of why a commoner should never be given the power you have.”
“And you’re a perfect example of why every commoner should have as much power as me.”
“I cannot wait until the Traitor is killed so you can go back to being…no one. Like the rest of your insignificant family.”
Martin’s heart pounded but she held back. She couldn’t let every First Family asshole get to her or she would never finish her mission. “How ‘bout you just take me to the fucking ProConsul?”
“Gladly.”
***
“I am glad you could find time in your busy schedule to see me, Paladin Martin,” said ProConsul Astra Varus.
“I am sorry for the delay, ProConsul,” replied Martin, still holding her salute.
“Very well,” huffed Astra. “I do not feel like playing games with you today.”
“Yes, ProConsul,” said Martin, dropping her salute but remaining at attention. “Why have you summoned me?”
“Your regeneration chamber has been removed, so now it is time to talk about getting back to your mission. Colonel Travarus has told me it will take three to four months.”
“I will be ready in six weeks, ProConsul.”
“That is aggressively optimistic,” replied Astra. “But that is why you were chosen for this task.”
“Trust me, ProConsul. You have no idea how much I want to complete my mission.”
“Then how is your team progressing, Paladin?”
“And who have you chosen?”
“Most will be from Elite Guard units. I have already picked Lieutenants Marcus Plaxis and Jeremia Messer. Next I will speak to Captain Desro and First Sergeant Shara. I also plan to talk to Gunnery Sergeant Mack from the Marines. I would still like to add a few more—”
“Very good,” interrupted Astra. “Then might I suggest one of my Praetorian officers, Lieutenant Oxia?”
Martin glanced over to Oxia, who returned an obnoxious smile. “And by suggest, you mean it is an order.”
“It is a recommendation from your ProConsul, Paladin Martin,” replied Astra. “Take it as you please.”
Martin let out a small sigh, the only hint of her frustration. She couldn’t say no to the ProConsul and now she would have to deal with one of her henchmen on her team. He could muck the whole thing up but she didn’t have a choice. “Welcome to the team, Praetorian.” She turned back toward Astra. “But your little pet will have to understand I am in command and follow my orders.”
“My Praetorians are much better at following orders than some of—what did you call them—my pets. At least they know their place. Don’t you, Praetorian?”
“I do, ProConsul,” replied Oxia. “And I will follow the Paladin’s orders…as long as they do not contradict yours.”
“Wonderful,” escaped from Martin’s lips.
“What was that, Paladin?”
“I am sure Praetorian Oxia will make an excellent addition to the team.”
“When do I start?” asked Oxia. “I need to have my baggage—”
“Your bag—whatever. I will have the details sent to you via secure message tomorrow. But, if the ProConsul will excuse me, I have another meeting to attend…that is, if the ProConsul is done with me.”
“I am,” said Astra. “But do not forget the clock is now ticking.”
***
“But we must send a message to those that would follow the Word,” demanded General Maxa, slamming his hand against the briefing table.
“Your ‘messages’ usually end bloody, General,” replied General Winterbird. “How is this going to sway the inhabitants to—”
“Sway them,” interrupted Maxa, his tall, powerful frame tight with anger. “They either join us or—”
“We kill them?” posed Stone, standing from his chair. He had listened to his generals argue for the last ten minutes and decided it was time to say his piece. “If we kill 100 in a town of 5,000, what good will that do us?”
“It will let the other 4,900 know they must follow,” said Maxa.
“Or drive them into the hands of the Followers of the Word,” added Colonel Scarus.
“And are we here to gain control of the planet or keep it safe for the inhabitants?” asked General Winterbird.
“Doing the first will take care of the second,” answered Maxa.
“Then the people of Kilo 7 will trade a religious war for the yoke of dictatorship,” said Stone.
“Let them have the yoke,” replied Maxa. “If it means they stop killing each other.”
“We need to get at the Bishops,” offered Scarus. “They are the ones behind it all. If we can stop them, it will allow us to stop the spread.”
“But over the last month we’ve seen that every time we kill a Bishop, one of the Priests rises to take his place,” said Winterbird. “We need—”
“We need to kill them all!” shouted Maxa. “Just let my brigade loose and—”
“Enough!” ordered Stone. “This is not just a military problem. It is much more complicated.” Stone continued, activating the global map on the briefing table. “We can’t be seen as another oppressor. They will either follow us out of fear or be driven into the ranks of the Word; neither will bring lasting stability.”
“So we just let the Word threaten the villagers and recruit more followers,” posed Maxa.
“No, General Maxa. We defend them and show them that under our protection—not rule—they can grow and prosper. Then we will gain something much more powerful than conscripts.”
“And what is that, General Stone?” asked Scarus.
“Allies, Colonel. Allies.”
“So we offer the olive branch? What if they take it and poke us in the eye?” said Maxa.
“There is no easy answer to this,” replied Stone. “If we come across as oppressors, we drive a wedge between us and them. And if we are too soft, our casualties—and those of the inhabitants—will continue to rise.”
“So what are your orders, General? The stick or the carrot?” asked Colonel Vae.
“Both. Focusing on the western land masses, we set up perimeters around the major cities to control access to the cities. Within the perimeters, however, we let the indigenous law enforcement and military run the day-to-day business while providing quick response units to assist them if they get in trouble. I also want a tenth of each brigade, on a volunteer basis, to be organized into public assistance units to aid with infrastructure and security development.”
“And what if these units are attacked or the locals are overwhelmed?” asked General Winterbird.
“Then they get the stick…but we strike only in response to attacks within the cities and only to stop the immediate threat.”
“What will we do outside of the cities?”
“General Winterbird’s brigade will be responsible for setting up strongholds and sending out patrols into villages.”
“And our mission?” asked General Winterbird.
“Communication, General. We will never be able to control every single village, so we will start with the villages in sectors three, five, and six. Move in, speak with the leaders and ask them to migrate into the cities where we can protect them…and keep them away from the Followers of the Word. It will be a tough pill to swallow, but they must understand they will be on their own and possibly caught in the crossfire if they stay out there.”
“Won’t that just open the door to infiltration of the cities?” asked Colonel Scarus.
“We will need to screen them the best we can at the perimeter,” replied Stone, “but some will get through. There will be attacks and resistance from within the cities, but we have to set the expectations and stay the course. The cities of Inotib, Ezah, Elleb, Nager, and Arerrac will be our base cities and have enough room to hold thousands of emigrants.” Stone moved his hands over the cities and then toward the outlying areas. “We limit the Word’s access to the cities and starve them of recruits from the countryside. From there, Colonel Scarus and 1st Brigade will go after concentrations of Follower units.”
“And where does that leave my brigade?” huffed Maxa.
“Your brigade will be responsible for establishing the perimeters around the five cities.”
“So Scarus and Winterbird get to seek out and engage the enemy and I get to babysit a bunch of sheep.”
Stone’s pulse quickened. He already had doubts about Maxa, and this meeting was doing nothing to improve his opinion of the former warlord. “Colonel Scarus is assigned the primary combat role because his unit is the most experienced and the best equipped. General Winterbird is given the engagement role as it is primarily made of up Dark Zone recruits that might relate to the inhabitants.”
“So my unit is not capable of—”
“General Maxa!” shouted Stone. He paused, taking in a deep breath. “You were chosen because I know your men will put a stubborn defense against any attacks on your lines.” He stepped toward Maxa. “I am not sure how General Nero led this division, but let me make it clear how I do.” He locked his gaze on Maxa. “I do expect my officers to ask questions and propose better options; what I do not expect, nor will I tolerate, is insubordination or any displays of brutality toward the civilian population.”
“But you’re giving the glory to everyone else while my men are relegated to guard duty.”
“Your men are providing much needed security f
or an entire population of future allies, General. And no job is more difficult than that of the sheepdog when the wolves are about. So if you or your men are not up to the task…”
“We will do our duty, General,” said Maxa through his teeth.
“Good, General,” replied Stone. “And now that we have settled that, Colonel Vae will discuss the details.”
“Yes, Sir,” said Vae. “I will conduct a brief with all of your field grade officers in four hours. Between our resources and those of the fleet, we are well set to control operations in the western sectors, with one exception.”
“And what is that?” asked Winterbird.
“Special operations,” replied Vae. “But a battalion of Scout Rangers have been requested and should be arriving within the week.”
“More warriors to take the glory,” complained Maxa.
Stone slammed the palm of his hand against the table. “If it’s glory you’re searching for, General, you’ve come to the wrong place,” said Stone. “I have no—”
“They said you were a warrior,” interrupted Maxa. “So far I have only seen an administrator. If you are not willing to fight—”
Stone stepped forward, grabbing Maxa’s tunic. In one powerful motion, he slammed the warlord onto the briefing table. “You may not want to see the warrior, General,” warned Stone. “If you are not willing to follow my commands, you had better resign your commission now, because this is the last time we will have this discussion.” Still holding Maxa against the table, Stone drew his sword. “Is that clear, General?”
“Yes, Sir,” grunted Maxa.
“Good,” replied Stone, releasing his grip. “Now wait outside my office; we have more to talk about.”
Maxa pushed himself up from the table and pulled at the bottom of his tunic to straighten it. “As you wish, General,” he said with a salute before turning and marching out of the room.
“Definitely not a Humani officer,” said Scarus.
“But he and his men are ferocious in a fight,” added Vae.
Stone shook his head. “We need more than brute force to win here. And even then it won’t look like any victory you have seen before. If we can prevent the Word from taking this planet and leave with the local government able to resist them, it will be a victory….we will never fully defeat the Followers of the Word through combat. It has to be done by the people of this planet…and all the others.”