by Rod Carstens
“Yes, we have. Not much but some. We are close, but there are missing pieces. Once found, these hybrids or human collaborators will be dealt with using extreme prejudice. The secretary general has ordered the formation of a small, very secret unit whose sole purpose will be to root out the embedded hybrids and take them down. Istas will be heading that unit. I can’t tell you any more, but I will be taking some of your best people for the unit.”
“Admiral, with all due respect I don’t have them to spare. I need every veteran I can find to stand up the new divisions.”
Usiche looked at him. Her face had changed subtly. It was the face Sand had seen many times on duty. It was her command face.
“I understand, but this is more important. They will have a larger impact than they ever could as part of a new division.”
“I lost so many on 703, it's hard to replace them.”
Usiche’s face softened before she said, “Dasan, I understand how devastating your losses were, especially Aijuba, but this is that important. I can assure you. She will be avenged.”
Sand’s eyes met the admiral’s. She was sincere. She had known and respected Aijuba and knew what she had meant to Dasan. Her eyes had softened and were that of an old friend.
“By the way, the information you brought back from 703 is proving invaluable to our understanding of the Xotoli. We have had nothing like it before. The medicines and samples from the children have given our scientists a real leg up on understanding hybrid physiology. The data and the server you brought back are still being analyzed, but my IT types are very excited. And the DNA samples and the video of a real Xotoli have our xenobiologists cumming in their pants. Your losses were not in vain. They are making a true difference in our war effort.”
The admiral was trying to soften the blow of losing Aijuba, but Dasan was not sure anything was worth Aijuba’s life. Dasan said nothing. He turned back to watching the spectacle outside the limo’s window. He decided to change the subject.
“Admiral, I am not very good at these things. I feel much more comfortable in less…expensive surroundings. Are you sure this is as important as you've said?” Dasan asked.
“Tonight you may call me Usiche. Dasan, you are going to have to fight some of the most important battles of the war here in this city. Not immediately but soon. You must begin to gain allies if you are going to win. I can’t fight all of the battles myself. I’ll need others to help. You will be one of them.”
“Wars are not only won on the battlefield, you need allies among the people who will be at this party tonight,” Istas added. As an Anjin assassin she had been trained to blend in no matter the environment. She would be as comfortable among these people as she was in a fight to the death.
“Who's giving this party that it's so important?” Dasan asked.
Usiche allowed herself a small smile.
“Her name is Kat Von Fleet. She is the most important hostess in the capital. There will be some of the most important people in the city here tonight. Her husbands and wives might be here too. She is poly, and the last time I counted she had two wives and three husbands. Every one of them is almost as important as she is, so they make up one of the unofficial power centers in the capital.”
Dasan could not hide his surprise.
“THE Von Fleets?”
“Yes, she is a great-granddaughter of one of the founders. I’ve known her since we were children—our families were close friends. She has nothing to do with the corporation. All she does, as she puts it, is collect checks and spend money. But don’t let that fool you. She is a shrewd and powerful woman in the capital, not just in political circles but also in business circles. She carved out her own career with little help from the family. If anything, Kat is her own woman.”
He was about to be one of the guests of honor of one of the most powerful women in the capital, accompanied by the admiral of the Confederation Navy and her assassin bodyguard and girlfriend. He had come a long way from his days as a young term Legion lieutenant out on the edge of the Confederation running patrols. Dasan wished that Aijuba could be here to see it. She would laugh that wonderful laugh of hers.
“Dasan, are your Notes working? You will meet a lot of people, and they will help you keep things straight,” the admiral said.
Dasan touched the small golden plug that had been inserted into the I/O port behind his right ear. When he touched it, the admiral’s name, rank, contact number, and other information floated next to her face. He knew politicians and business types used the program, but this was the first time he had ever used it. In the past he had flown ships and fought in his armor using the port, but this was a completely new experience for Dasan. He was still getting used to it—the insert used the nano wiring they had added to his brain to fly the old Legion ships for an entirely new application.
“Yes, it is.”
“One minute, Admiral,” the pilot announced as the limo made its final approach to the townhouse’s landing pad.
“Thank you.”
Dasan watched as the pilot made his approach to the building. The limo flared and touched down with a gentle bump. A clear canopy slid out of the building to the door of the limo. Two Marines riding in jump seats in front of the admiral’s compartment jumped out and opened the door to the limo. They stood at rigid attention as Admiral Raurk helped Istas out then followed her. Dasan stepped out after them.
When they had re-formed the Marine Corps, they had reached back into history to find a uniform for the new service. Since it was based on the old Marine Corps of centuries ago, it seemed fitting that they pattern the new uniform after the storied organization whose history they were continuing. So Dasan wore the officers’ dress blue uniform of the old Marine Corps with the high collar and a gold-and-silver eagle, globe, and anchor emblem on each collar. He wore the single star of his rank on the epaulettes on his shoulders. A gleaming, wide, black leather belt with a strap over one shoulder with white pants finished off his uniform. For the first time he wore all of his newly awarded medals and badges. Naturally he wore the old wings he’d earned as a Legionnaire over his right breast pocket. Over his left breast pocket he wore the medals he had won for Rift. Above the two rows was the small replica of an armored helmet he’d earned for qualifying as armored infantry. Above that he wore the small replicas of crossed retros he had earned as a drop-qualified Marine. Finally in the middle of his left breast pocket he wore the close-combat badge only awarded to Marines who had killed an enemy in hand-to-hand fighting. If you knew how to read the badges and emblems, you could almost read Dasan’s military career.
As he stood he ran a finger under the collar. It was tight. His eyes met the eyes of one of the Marines holding the door. She was doing everything she could to suppress a smile at his discomfort. It was Kifle Elias. He had known her since the early days of the newly formed armored infantry in the Legion.
“Sergeant, have I busted you to private lately?” Dasan said.
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, still at rigid attention. But her face was fighting a smile.
“No, sir. It’s been some time since you busted me and sent me to the brig.”
She had fought at his side many times over the years, and it was good to see a trusted and friendly face. She was part of his and the admiral’s handpicked bodyguard.
“Remind me to bust you tomorrow,” Dasan said rolling his eyes.
“Certainly, sir.”
They exchanged a smile and Dasan strode into the huge penthouse of Kat Von Fleet. When he stepped through the doors it was almost as overwhelming as the city itself. The wall across the huge room from him was covered with floor to ceiling windows. The city stretched to the horizon in all its glory, as if it were part of the decoration of the penthouse. The room was filled with men and women, in couples and small groups. He recognized the faces of many of those in the room. With the Notes plug in, looking out over the crowd was not that much different than looking through his heads-up on the ba
ttlefield. The names of the guests floated above them, as well as their political or corporate titles. For many of the young women, their contact information floated above their heads. The only problem, Dasan thought, was he could not tell friend from foe the way he could in his armor’s heads-up. He decided he might treat them all as enemy until they were proven as a friend. This was a battlefield with which he was not familiar and did not feel comfortable.
The room was filled with politicians, entertainers, and corporate executives. It looked as if the richest, most famous, and powerful in the Confederation had been gathered together in one room. Cameras hovered over some of the guests, recording their every move for their life show or news program. Lights hovered over some of the couples and groups illuminating them perfectly. The women wore the latest in dresses that barely covered their perfect figures, of various colors and hues. Some were completely nude except for bejeweled gauze of varying lengths. The men exuded the confidence of those with money and power. They were more conservatively dressed in suits that must have cost as much as Dasan made in a year. Every man in the room seemed to have one or two women with him. The women’s ages varied greatly, but they had one thing in common: they were all beautiful. He and Admiral Raurk were the only ones in uniform, and even in Usiche’s dress whites and his dress blues they were the least colorfully dressed.
Naturally he had seen fashion videos and knew that enhanced nudity was the latest fashion, but it was an entirely different thing to be faced with a room full of beautiful nude and partially nude women. Some wore full-length dresses that did seem to have a function beyond emphasizing the woman’s figure beneath. They somehow highlighted their perfect breasts or their perfectly groomed pubic hair. One woman had what appeared to be pearls and other precious stones woven into her pubic hair. Others had lights that floated near them carefully calibrated to emphasize portions of their figures. The room was filled with the unique smell of cigarette smoke and an exotic mix of expensive perfumes. These were no regular cigarettes but private blends that contained tobacco and the purchaser’s desired mix of drugs. Dasan felt as if he could get high simply by standing in the room.
Decades of living the Spartan life of a Legionnaire and then a Marine had not prepared him for this. He stood there drinking in the sights, sounds, and smells of the richest people in the Confederacy. It struck him that it seemed as if they existed in another dimension that did not contain the threat of the Xotolis. Theirs was protected place of privilege and excess, one whose existence hung precariously in the balance at this very moment, yet there was not a single sign of the danger. For Dasan, the privileged sights in the room triggered visions of bloody combat, reflecting the different worlds he seemed to occupy. It was as if all of this display of wealth and power only made him more aware of the world he came from instead of making him forget it. He wondered what Aijuba would think about all of this. He could almost hear her say, “It is the way of things. That is why there are Wolfs and Sols.”
Dasan, the admiral, and Istas had been standing there for a few moments when the murmuring in the room stopped as everyone realized they had arrived. A woman Dasan had not noticed before turned from talking to a group of people to stare at them. She was simply the most striking woman he had ever seen, and all the other women in the room seemed to pale in her presence. Her streaked blonde hair was finger combed away from her perfect face. She wore little makeup except around her large, beautiful eyes and on her full, rich mouth. She turned. When she did, Dasan saw that she was conservatively dressed compared to the rest of the women in the room. She wore a black dress that was off the shoulder, one breast covered and the other naked. Her nipple was covered with a gold, diamond, and ruby flower held in place with a gold-bar through her pierced nipple. Her figure was rich and full, with large breasts, a small waist, and perfect hips. Her breasts moved gently as she moved. She came striding toward them with the confidence of someone used to having her every move observed. With each step the floor lit up under her with pale-green, effervescent light that would expand with her weight and slowly disappear as she lifted her foot. Her eyes were on Dasan, the admiral, and Istas, taking them in with obvious pleasure. Dasan was still staring when she walked up to them and spoke.
“Usiche, it is so good to see you. It has been too long,” the woman said as she strode up to them.
“Kat, you are as beautiful as ever.”
A small smile crossed Kat’s face and she said, “I love it when you lie to me.”
Usiche and Kat laughed together in what had to be an old joke between them. Kat leaned forward and kissed the admiral gently on the lips. Then she turned to Istas and said, “This must be Istas. Usiche has spoken of you often, but she never told me just how beautiful you really are, my dear.”
Kat’s and Istas’s eyes held for a very long moment before Kat said, “I have not had the opportunity to thank you personally for saving my old friend’s life twice now. It is a debt I can’t possibly repay.”
“It was nothing,” Istas said and held out her hand.
Kat took it and instead of shaking it, she leaned down and kissed it, in a very formal gesture.
“Istas, my dear, I do owe you a debt for saving my old and dear friend. Should you ever need anything, I am at your service.”
For the first time ever, Dasan saw Istas taken back for a split second. Istas gave Kat a very small smile and said, “I accept your kind offer and will not hesitate to call.”
Kat put her other hand on top of Istas’s and said, “Good.” She then turned to Dasan. Dasan could almost physically feel her gaze it was so powerful.
“And last but not least, you must be the famous General Dasan Daniel Sand. The Hero of Rift.”
Dasan was afraid he would not be able to speak.
“You are too kind,” Dasan finally managed to say.
Kat looked him up and down for several moments before she said. “Come, I must introduce you to a few of the less boring of my guests.”
Kat slid her arm through his and pressed her naked, bejeweled breast into his arm. The feel of her breast and the smell of her perfume almost overwhelmed Dasan. He was stunned by the sexual presence of this woman. Without trying she had made the rest of the women in the party fade into the background, and he allowed her to lead him away like a child.
Istas exchanged a glance with Usiche as Kat walked away on Dasan’s arm.
“Really?” she said.
“I am as surprised as you are. I thought Kat might like Dasan, but I have never seen her react to someone like that before.”
“Our general seemed a little like a deer in the headlights. Excuse my pun,” Istas said.
“Yes, he did. She has that effect on people.” Usiche smiled and glanced at Istas before she said, “You should know.”
Istas arched an eyebrow and said, “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Good, because I would hate having to get into a fight with our hostess.”
“Really,” Istas said, obviously enjoying Usiche’s jealousy. “That is something I would like to see.”
They laughed together and Istas took Usiche’s arm.
“Seriously, I could not have hoped for it to go so well. If she really takes to him, and it's not just a momentary attraction, she will be a true advocate for the general and our needs. Her support will go beyond anything I could have asked for even with our friendship.”
Istas glanced up at Usiche, who was proving to be a more formidable and cunning player in the political arena than Istas had thought possible. To be willing to use an old friend’s emotions for future needs showed a side of Usiche she had never seen before. This woman continued to surprise and interest her. She squeezed Usiche’s arm and exchanged an affectionate glance with her. They were soon surrounded by guests eager to meet Admiral Raurk. They made quite a couple—the small, glamorous, golden-haired woman and the tall, beautiful admiral in full whites. They had spoken to several of the guests when Senator Carroll walked up with a tall, b
eautiful woman with white-blonde hair.
“Admiral, I am so glad to see you outside of the political arena.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Senator,” Usiche said politely.
“Admiral, I would like you to meet Raina, my wife.”
Istas stared at the woman at the senator’s side. Before she had even spoken, every Anjin instinct she possessed over her long career was suddenly on edge. Yet she had no idea why. The woman was dressed in a white, see-through gown that covered her from neck to ankles. Through the gauze you could see she had covered her breasts and pubic triangle with jewels. She was quite a sight, but that was not why Istas’s nerves were on edge.
“So nice to meet you, Raina,” Usiche said, shaking her hand. “Senator, Raina, I would like you to meet my companion, Istas.”
“It is my pleasure,” Senator Carroll said, shaking her hand.
Istas turned to the woman.
“Pleasure,” Raina said. The woman’s grip was like her own—steel wrapped in velvet.
“Admiral, I have not had a chance to tell you how glad I am to see you unharmed thanks to your friend here,” Senator Carroll said. “Istas, you do look as though you have recovered from your wounds. I am very glad to see you also.”
“Thank you, Senator,” Istas said. Istas had been gravely wounded saving Usiche, and she was just now completely recovered.
Raina’s eyes met Istas’s and held them for a long moment. There was no sympathy in them. If anything, Istas saw hatred.
“Yes, if it hadn’t been for Istas I would have been killed in the attack. How are your wounds healing, Senator?” Usiche said.
Istas met Raina’s gaze with her own unwavering stare. Nothing passed between them except the look she had seen in the eyes of men and women she had fought over the years. Raina radiated a physical confidence beyond her beauty, the confidence of someone who had fought battles as Istas had. Who was this woman?