No his real Mother had been a simple maid, who had one night been taken by the Baron himself, she never told him whether this coupling was consensual, although from the way she used to look at his father, he doubted it. She had fallen pregnant and in order to avoid the embarrassment, and because the Baroness herself was infertile, his father, had bought his mother and him. The plan was simple, his mother would remain, in their employ and live within their palatial manor. When Ilius was born, he would be placed in the care of the Baroness and his real mother would sign over all her parental rights to the Baron. Which his mother did happily, she received a great deal of money and was able to continue working at the manor in a more relaxed capacity, so she could continue to see her son. She had come from nothing, so to now sit among the rich and powerful of the Empire, was quite the rise in station. Yes she had taught him much, including how to always, make sure you come out ahead, whatever the situation.
There was no way that you could say Ilius was a soldiers commander, if he was honest he didn’t give two shits about the men under him, all he cared about was looking good to the commanders back within the Council. The Normaskon’s after all, were perhaps the third most powerful family within the Empire, they controlled personally two core Worlds and the security and commercial arm of the clan, had control of entire galaxies. Not only were they fiercely loyal to the realm itself, which he supposed he understood, after all why would you bite the hand that feeds you, they held their position because the government trusted them implicitly.
Yet what his Father, the Baron, had never possessed and neither had his family, was a foothold within the Military. That was where Ilius came in, from an early age he was moulded and taught, that his life would be in service to the Empire. That one day he would become a mighty warrior and earn the house the military victories and support it would need in order to grow in this cutthroat universe.
Yet his real Mother had other plans, plans that would see Ilius topple his Father, and take over the house for himself. She had made him realize, the vast swathe of opportunity that his position within the Military would allow him to explore. The fortune that could be made, if you were smart and savvy enough. That his station, would open doors to many lucrative industries that could be exploited for vast financial gain. Of course the obvious avenue of arm dealing, could also be stretched to encompass drugs and vehicles and of course the more lucrative human trafficking, in a universe of such wealth there was always the need for indentured servants or more simply slaves. As it stood now his own personal wealth was nearly equal to his Fathers and soon he would have the support within the Council itself that he would need, to launch his own assault, and take his rightful place, as Baron and head of the Normaskon house.
His Father of course would have to die, he was unsure whether he would do the actual killing himself, he had murdered in the past of course, yet he had never really enjoyed it and there were others he could trust who would make sure that it was slow and agonising. The Baroness, he may keep alive, locked away somewhere quiet and kept on some medications to help her relax. So that he could simply wheel her out, at special events and show how much he was caring for his dear mother. Of course his true Mother would take over the role in everything but name, until he had found a suitable woman or perhaps several that could keep up with him.
He sat back leisurely in the cosy leather seat and put his hands behind his head, everything was working out just as he had planned. Soon this minor skirmish would be concluded and of course he would be there at the end to lead the final heroic charge, from the safety of his transport naturally. Yet still very much close enough so that word of his heroism would be spread back to the Council and this would buy him all the good will he would need, so that when he began his rise to the throne, he would have all the assistance he would ever need.
You see he understood the true way that this Empire worked, it didn’t matter who you were or who you knew; no, what really mattered was how many credits you had. With enough you could easily carve out a little piece of the universe for yourself, the position of Baron would be a nice opener, yet his desires stretched further than simply control of two core Worlds. He certainly saw himself the King of his own system maybe even galaxy, yes that would do just fine for him. He certainly didn’t want the whole of this stinking realm, most of it was a crumbling decaying ruin in any case, harking back to a time of freedom when man had first set foot into space, no simply a piece of the pie was all he wanted. King Normaskon had a nice ring to it, freedom from the Empire, in all but name, was something that could be accomplished without too much difficulty. If you had enough clout with the right people, there was nothing that you couldn’t attain
Calmly he surveyed the banks of floating screens which surrounded him, they beamed back images from the aerial drones which he employed. These allowed him to view all areas of the battle in real time, without ever having to get too close to the actual fighting. After all you couldn’t have a general injured or killed, it would just look bad to the folks back home and the morale of the true citizens was after all what really mattered. No he was much happier and obviously a lot more secure just sitting and watching, a silent observer to the turmoil and despair of war. He surveyed impassively as his second platoon were being cut to pieces, by wave after wave of Separatist, he was about to give an order to his deputy when an idea flashed into his head. Yes this could be the perfect moment to finally be able to get rid of that bastard Stalker.
A plan began to take shape within his mind, like the pieces of some giant puzzle. He had wanted him out the way for almost the entire three years he had been in command of the regiment. The man was a true thorn in his side, a true soldier’s soldier, a man of the people and all that unbearable shit. Stalker was a man who still didn’t understand, how this mighty Empire worked, a man who still believed in honesty, integrity, perhaps even in victory. He had failed to realise that this realm didn’t give you anything for being a decent person, in fact it didn’t give away anything, if you desired something you had to grab hold of it with both hands and tear and claw for it. Or in his case simply buy it.
Stalker had been responsible for foiling several of the Generals most lucrative contracts including the sale of body armour and weapons destined for his troops to some very dubious, and yet exceedingly wealthy arms dealers. As well as the time he had prevented him selling an entire shipment of medical supplies which would have got him well over three million credits on the black market. Although to be honest this had little to do with the money, it was more personal than that, while other treated him with the respect that he deserved this man, this Captain, actually dared to look down on him.
The sneer came again, yes today finally he may be able to remove this threat, oh he may have been bullet proof in a political sense, his troopers respected him too much and that gave him a certain level of protection. He couldn’t just simply remove this much loved Captain, that would cause too many questions and even though there would be nothing that anyone could do, it may well hurt him within the Council. So no this called for some more diplomatic and underhanded techniques. He truly was his mother’s son, the strategy was so simple, if sadly the enemy were able to break through and out flank Stalker’s position and he was killed well what a catastrophe that would be. He would make sure the Captain, received all the military honours, in fact he well throw the first shovel of dirt onto his coffin himself, that would certainly make a nice shot for the cameras.
“Kirken!” He shouted.
A door at the far end of the APC burst open and his deputy Colin Kirken rushed in, his plump, rat like face set in a wide almost surreal smile, while his small, darting eyes looked down constantly at his feet, as if his brain was incapable of simply moving one foot in front of the other. As he waddled over, his huge belly rolled over the sides of his trousers, like his own fat was trying desperately to escape the confines of his flesh. Ilius detested his deputy almost as much as Stalker, yet he was a tremendously good ass kisser and di
dn’t mind being his personal slave. So he had kept him on, for how much longer was debatable, until he found someone better probably, then sadly Kirken would meet with a tragic end perhaps sadly left behind for the Separatist to make a plaything out of. Yes that would certainly put a smirk on his face, he would have to remember that one.
“Yes my liege,” Kirken wheezed, his face reddened from the exertion of rushing to the General’s side.
Ilius sneered and looked upon his adjutants’ porcine face blushed an ever deeper hue of crimson, with open disdain. “You really are a fucking disgrace Kirken you know that don’t you?”
“Yes my liege I am.” Kirken pleaded, limply.
For a moment, he thought that Kirken, was going to fall on his knees and beg for forgiveness, yet he didn’t, which made Ilius hate the rotund fool even more, when he spoke he was barely able to keep the hatred from his voice. “Yes we’re going to have to do something about your weight, aren’t we? It is becoming an embarrassment for me to be seen with an aid like you.”
“Yes my General, I’m so sorry” Kirken coughed, in between heavy gasps of air, he placed his plump hands together as if he was praying and his fingers had the look of sausages, sitting next to each other on a plate.
“Yes,” Ilius retorted as a sardonic smile spread across his face, he had always enjoyed having power over people, even as a child. He could never understand why not everyone wanted it, to have command over someone else’s life, was like being a god, given form and who wouldn’t want that. “We will have to do something, for starters I think no more food for you, just water for a few weeks and maybe when we get back to base we may have to staple up that stomach of yours, what do you say to that?”
“That would be an honour.”
“Good, now I have a job for you, it seems that the enemy are breaking through our second platoon.”
Before Ilius could say another word Kirken blurted, “Would you like me to bring in the reserves as well?” Before he could finish though Ilius slapped his hand firmly across his face splitting his lip open.
“Never interrupt me you fat pig,” He exclaimed angrily.
“I’m beg your pardon my liege,” Kirken uttered as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and moved it towards his gushing wounds.
Ilius grabbed his hand forcefully, “Leave it, let it bleed and maybe it will remind you of your place.” He paused and allowed his rage to subside slightly, “now about the reserves I am worried for my safety, obviously if the Separatist break through, I myself may be in some danger, so I want you to bring up the reserves and have then set up a defensive perimeter around me do you understand?”
Kirken glanced around nervously, as scarlet fluid flowed from his lip and began to stain his shirt. “Yes my lord,” he bowed awkwardly as he spoke, and it gave him the look of some kind of ancient court jester.
“Good, now run along like a good little bug and get me the purity officer as well I have need of her council.” Ilius dismissed his deputy, with a curse hand gesture. Kirken scurried off past the motionless honour guard, they were trained not to move unless ordered or only when the general’s life appeared in danger. Even over them, he had ultimate power, now if he ordered they would kill each other or commit suicide, that was true power and he venerated it.
Languidly he leaned back in his padded pew and thought of the purity officer Tara Lossas and leered. He visualized her nimble, perfect body, her flawless mocha flesh shimmering. Not only was she striking but also almost as cold bloodied as he was. An almost perfect combination, perhaps soon when this battle was over and he was installed as Baron or King, he would take her for his Baroness, of course if he did, he would always have to keep one eye open just in case. She was almost as driven as he was and perhaps even less concerned with the collateral damage. He was quite sure that she would kill him where he stood, if she thought it could help furnish her own rise to power within the Puritans.
“Yes indeed,” He whispered, she was most certainly his kind of woman.
He shifted his gaze back to the hovering displays and the brutal almost primal fighting that was ongoing along the front. He reached over and tasked one of the drones, to find Stalker, within seconds the image was beamed back. The Captain stood tall, amidst the battle, a sea of calm, as all hell was let loose around him. A part of Ilius would have respected the man, if he wasn’t standing in the way of his plans.
“I think it will be the last time you trouble me, good captain.” He offered a mock salute and then sat back and awaited his guest.
Outside the trailer, Tara Lossas stood coolly, the cigarette dangled idly from her fingers. She had stopped smoking the drugs some months ago, yet sometimes she just liked how it felt between her fingers, it was one of the things that she missed. The sounds of battle echoed, around her and she felt the hairs rise on the nap of her neck.
Instinctively she flicked ash onto the ground, her free hand lay gently on the grip of her silenced pistol, something that she had learnt at the academy, and it had never left her. She had been borne into the Puritans, her father a high priest and her mother a member of the ruling body. Her childhood had been one of shelter and privilege, although always balanced by the brutal discipline and religious zealotry which came with the Church.
She spat a mouthful of muck and dust out onto the sandy ground and brought the cigarette up to her lips. She drew in a single drag of the flavoured smoke, held it within her lungs, and then exhaled. The drug worked swiftly, allowing her mind to relax, her limbs felt light and she could hear her own heartbeat hammering within her ears. Within seconds the implants integrated into her body, began to detect the foreign substance and remove it from her system. So a high that most people would be able to feel for hours, lasted a little over fifteen seconds for her.
She felt her entire body tremble as the last of the stimulants were pursued and consumed by the nano-machines that infested her blood cells. The implant itself was designed to identify any poisonous or damaging substance, which in effect meant that she would be able to survive most biological or chemical attacks as well as most airborne toxins. It had saved her life twice before, once during the rebellion on the Xyres 14, where the planetary governor, a small, fool of a man had decided to unleash missiles packed with an advance organic contagion, the disease which was released had quickly mutated and had infected the entire planet, only two people had left that World alive that day and she was one of them. The other was Nathanial, a death bringer and perhaps the only man she had ever cared about.
The thought of him, even now made her bloom, her memory was spurred and the recollections were roused from dormancy. It had been two years since she had seen him, since she been ordered to terminate him, she had tried of course, after all she was a loyal puritan, and had never failed to carry out an assignment. She had waited till he was at his most exposed, naked in her bed, moments after they had been together, his chest still heaved as he gasped, and sweat glistening on pale skin. She had kissed him and pretended to reach for a cigarette, her hand searching for the blade she had hidden earlier, when she arched back around the weapon at her back, he had been simply lying there, that usual, soft almost knowing curl in his lips and the pistol held loosely in his hand.
“Now that’s just not friendly, to try and kill and a man who’s naked, spent and in your bed.” His stare fixed on her, voice lax and with not even the slightest trace of anger, just a simple and base understanding. After all both of them existed within the same sphere, where often time duty trumped personal feelings.
She had tilted her head and purred playfully, “Well we did both have some fun first, so you can at least give me that much.” She had attempted to move her arm, slightly in order to get a better angle for the knife, however he was too good for that.
“Please don’t move my love,” He had whispered as he backed out of the bed and edged towards the door, shadows from the candles flickered over his naked flesh. “I hoped that it wouldn’t end this way.”
She
had simply beamed, “You knew it was coming though my dear, the death bringers and the Puritans have never been friendly bed fellows.”
He chuckled and nodded his head, “Your right of course, still a blade is a bit brutal isn’t it?” there was a hint of almost genuine disappointment in his voice, which cut her deeply than any true weapon could.
She found her gaze drop, “I would have made it quick. You have my word on that.”
“I know,” he replied curtly, “Well, it is time for me to go.”
“Don’t you want your clothes?” She had teased.
He looked upon her and continued to grin, in a way only he could, that was capable of cracking even the ice that encased her heart, a gift from her parents, whose God held no sway with love or compassion, he was a God of smite, and wraith. “I think I will let you keep them, my love, they can be something to remember me by,” He shifted slightly, then stopped, his voice lowered and his tone became serious, “Will you be in trouble for failing to complete your task?”
She could still feel her heart miss a beat and her own intake of breath catch in her throat, “No,” she had managed to croak.
“I am glad.” He had whispered in reply.
“Will you?” She asked bluntly.
He had shifted back round and once again, his soft turquoise eyes, the shade of the sky on her home world on a clear day, found her and within them she saw reflected her own soul. His beam returned this time thin and parched, he shook his head. “No, they knew that I wouldn’t do it.”
She sat bolt upright in the bed and placed the serrated blade down, allowing the silk cover to fall and reveal her own body. “It was last night that you were going to do it, wasn’t it, on that moonlight walk by the canals”
The Last Foxhole (The Forgotten War Saga Book 1) Page 12