“Oh, Dannae, I am so glad to see you,” the interrupting voice said breathlessly. The girls all stopped their chatter and stared at the short, pleasantly plump woman with a round face and auburn curls. Dannae smiled but without warmth.
“Clodine, how nice to see you,” she said coolly. She could hardly believe that this commoner had once been her lover. But she was thinner then, she thought.
“May I join you?” Clodine Tarkenina asked. She drew up a chair and sat down without waiting for a response. A server came by, and she ordered katsch as well, but added a klava—a slightly alcoholic and very rich topping. When the server was gone, Clodine leaned over and embraced Dannae, forcing her to touch breasts. She would have kissed her on the lips, but Dannae averted her face gracefully and accepted a warm kiss on the side of her throat.
“I was so delighted to see you arrive on the Hydromeda,” Clodine said excitedly. “I was there at the docking. You were such a wonderful sight, all the huntress squads in their dazzling uniforms and you in your formal priestess robes! I pointed you out to everyone. And they say that you attend on Princess Andromache herself!”
As Clodine prattled on, her katsch arrived, and she began to sip it. Finally she noticed the class of seven-year-olds, clustered all around them. She leaned toward Dannae and whispered in her ear, rudely and obviously.
“Are these the girls from school? Are you still volunteering with the brats?”
The girls did not hear the whisper, but Clodine was so obvious that they knew that they were being talked about. Their chatter died away, and they began to stare at the two adults apprehensively. Dannae’s eyes grew grim.
“They are our children. They are the future of the Sisterhood, yes,” she said tightly.
Clodine surveyed the children briefly—among the Zon, the fact that they were all extremely good-looking was not unusual. Her interest quickly returned to what she considered most important—herself.
“Dannae, I am so pleased that you have such highly placed friends now. I need your help. You will not believe this, but the beauty board has rejected my appeal. They have signed an order deporting me to Ostracis! I am barely thirty! I am just as pretty as the next girl. But you know that—you will get Princess Andromache or one of your friends to intercede with the Board, won’t you?”
A society obsessed with physical beauty, all Zon were tested by the Excellence and Aesthetics Board for weight, fitness, and overall physical appearance every six months. Three consecutive failures led to forced early retirement and deportation to the Ostracis Citadel in the far north. Clodine had always struggled with her weight—she had no self-control and constantly went through binge-starve cycles, emerging a bit heavier each time. Even when she was Dannae’s lover, she had failed Excellence boards. But she had always managed to avoid failing three in a row. Obviously now her luck had run out. With her record of past failures, it was no surprise that her appeal had been turned down.
The pudgy face with its look of childish confidence disgusted Dannae. It was even worse in contrast with the children’s sleek good looks.
“I am sorry, Clodine, but you have had many, many warnings. You have been failing your Excellence boards for years. With your record, there is nothing I can do.”
Clodine’s face fell.
“But you must help me,” she cried piteously. “I will surely die in Ostracis. It is not my fault that I don’t have classic Zon beauty. Many girls think I am beautiful in my own way! You loved me yourself once!” Tears sprung from her eyes.
“Clodine, I have been to Ostracis many times on supply missions,” said Dannae in what she hoped was a soothing tone. “It is just like Atlantic City. The winters are a little colder, but temperature shields work just as well there as here. You will lack for nothing there.”
But Clodine was not listening. “I don’t want to go! I don’t want to leave Atlantic City, I don’t, I won’t!” She pounded a pudgy fist on the table.
Dannae hardened her heart. “I am sorry, Clodine, but you must leave us now. I must attend to the girls.”
Clodine began to snivel. “I was good enough for you when I was thinner and you were a commoner working on qualifying for the temples and the legions. But now I am not good enough for Medica Dannae, the great huntress and priestess of Cognis! You electrae are all the same—you are all so perfect, you have no consideration for us commoners. We can’t vote; we have no voice!”
She downed her katsch and stood. She began wringing her hands and sobbing aloud. “Oh, what will become of me? Dannae, you are my last hope! How can you forsake me like this? I will do anything for you, anything! I can love you again, better than anyone else, you’ll see…”
She carried on in this vein, leaving Dannae confused and the children rather frightened. Another patroness of the café, a huntress in the uniform of the Pentheselia Legion rose and came up to their table.
“Is this woman bothering you, Medica?” she asked solicitously.
“I am afraid so, Officia,” Dannae said, a note of regret in her voice. The huntress took Clodine by the arm.
“Please come with me, miss,” she said to Clodine with stiff politeness.
“No! No!” Clodine began to struggle, but the huntress was tall and powerful. Clodine was no match for her. She was swiftly propelled out of the café. The last Dannae saw of her, the huntress had placed force field restraints on Clodine’s arms and was pushing her into a speeder with Pentheselia Legion markings. In the silence following her departure, Dannae heaved a sigh of relief.
“What will happen to her, Medica Dannae?” asked one of the girls in scared tones.
Dannae picked her up and put her on her lap. She surveyed the frightened faces in front of her.
“Nothing, darlings. They’ll just give her something to calm her down. The Sisterhood takes care of us and protects us, even from ourselves.”
“My mother is a commoner, Medica Dannae,” said another, looking at her with big eyes. “Will she be sent to Ostracis?”
“Of course not!” cried Dannae, picking her up and putting her in her lap beside the other girl. “The Sisterhood is a nurturing family. I am sure your mother would never let herself slip like that. We must be disciplined! Discipline is the key to our survival. Our enemies are so many and we are so few, that all of us in the active population must strive to be the best that we can be. Remember, none of us are born electrae—I had to work hard to qualify as a priestess and a huntress. Why, even our beloved Queen Hildegard was born a commoner! Our system is completely fair—all of you will have the same chance to qualify.”
She paused and scanned her charges, looking each one in the eye.
“You are all special,” she continued. “Every one of your mothers had to undergo tests and qualify for pregnancy. We Zon are bred for excellence. That is why we are so superior to the savage barbarians. Look at yourselves! See how beautiful and clever you all are!”
The girls smiled happily at the fulsome praise and returned to chatting with each other. Dannae had called the school on the comm, and now a priestess in the robes of a scholastica arrived to escort the girls back. Dannae rose, and they greeted each other as equals in the traditional manner.
“Thanks, Dannae,” she said. “It really helps the girls to see that the best and brightest in the Sisterhood love them and want to spend time with them.” Several of the girls came up and hugged Dannae before forming up two-by-two to leave.
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” said Dannae, smiling.
DANNAE WAS STILL smiling when she checked into Repro. The Reproduction Institute was the largest building in Atlantic City. In reality it was a vast full-service hospital and also housed the offices of the Health Administration. The name simply indicated the enormous importance of reproduction for the Zon state. Ever since their arrival on New Eartha a thousand years before, the Zon worried incessantly about their small numbers. They were desperately afraid of dying out or worse, being assimilated into the barbarian hordes, regressing
back into the hated Patriarchy and losing their advanced civilization.
Without males, the Zon became pregnant by artificial insemination, and this was handled by Repro. Zon science in this area was extremely advanced. Zon priestesses had begun the Repository, as it was called, with stored semen stocks brought from Eartha. As these degraded over time, they developed new methods of boosting their potency and longevity by splicing in genetic material extracted from the semen of local barbarians. Particularly attractive barbarian sperm was placed directly in the Repository. Over the centuries, they built up and continually expanded their enormous and diverse gene pool of test-tube “partners” for Zon who wished to become mothers.
The Zon were very selective, and sisters had to demonstrate superior physical and mental characteristics in order to qualify for motherhood. Over centuries of breeding, more and more of the Zon met these requirements. However, culture was a perpetual stumbling block to the administration’s quest for greater numbers. Two major aspects of Zon culture were the worship of physical beauty and a deep loathing for the act of impregnation that was associated with the Patriarchy. Assuming the burden of pregnancy and bringing a girl into the world was considered on par with death on the battlefield. Mothers and motherhood were celebrated, venerated, and supported with hefty government incentives. However, for the average Zon, motherhood was only slightly more attractive than a battlefield death, and the Zon fertility rate remained stubbornly low.
Hence, it was no surprise that a gifted electra like Dannae found a very warm welcome at Repro. The staff at the reception desk greeted her enthusiastically. They all exchanged the traditional greeting, and one of them accompanied her up to the Pregnancy Evaluation Center. Gisfin Ednina, a cheerful obstetrics Medica, took her under her wing, collected a sample, and ran the tests.
“Well, Dannae, the results are no surprise,” said Gisfin. “You are young, very fertile, and fully qualified to become a mother. I have no doubt that your insemination will be successful. When do you want to select your mate?”
“No reason to wait,” smiled Dannae. “No time like the present.”
“Let’s go to the Repository then. It’s right next door.”
She led Dannae down a short hall and into another office, with another set of administrators. They led her to one of a series of semiprivate chambers, each with a view-screen terminal. Dannae was assisted in entering some more personal data into the terminal and then inserted the card containing the results of the pregnancy evaluation into it as well.
“Now, Dannae, the procedure is just like you learned in Sex Ed in Senior School. Just put in the characteristics you want, and the terminal will search the Repository and give you matches. You can change or adjust the characteristics as much as you like. Each time you select a mate, the terminal will give you the complete projection of the pregnancy and the expected life profile of your daughter, along with the statistical probabilities associated with the profile. We call this profile a ‘virtual daughter.’ Pick as many virtual daughters as you like. You can then compare them and pick the one you like the best. You don’t have to pick one today; you can come back as often as you like. We recognize the enormity of your sacrifice, and we want to make sure that your daughter will be a source of happiness and pride for the rest of your life.”
Dannae nodded and sat at the terminal. Three hours and almost two hundred mates later, she had narrowed the field to two. She brought up both virtual daughters in adulthood onto a split screen and looked from one to the other. To her eyes, both were gorgeous, and Dannae could see herself in both of them. She smiled and whispered to herself, my beautiful daughters. Of the two virtual daughters, one was slightly more athletic and a brunette, while the other was a blonde with a slightly higher IQ. She opened a comm channel to Gisfin, and she was back in minutes. She ran the two virtual daughters through a battery of tests and finally looked up from the view-screen.
“The projections have converged well, Dannae,” Gisfin said in a measured, professional tone. “The brunette has an expected longevity that’s about average, about a hundred and eighty years. The blonde looks like she will have health issues in mid-life, and her expected longevity is only about one-twenty. Of course, it is your choice, dear, but a hundred years from now, you will probably still be here, and your blonde virtual will be having lots of health issues.”
“Well, I guess that makes up my mind for me,” said Dannae cheerfully.
Gisfin tapped the view-screen controls a few more times and went through a few more screens of data. When she looked up, her face was serious.
“There is one more thing,” she said.
“Well, don’t make me wait, what is it?” Dannae’s tone was light, but Gisfin’s words and expression worried her.
“There’s a strong chance that your brunette pregnancy will result in twins.” She said it as though she were condemning Dannae to a long, painful illness. She was surprised to see Dannae’s face brighten into a smile of surpassing radiance.
“Why, that’s wonderful,” she said, breathlessly. “Two daughters! What a blessing! When can you impregnate me?”
Gisfin looked at her as if she were drunk or unstable.
“We could do it right away,” she said slowly. “But don’t you want to think about it for a couple of days? You could have some motherhood counseling sessions with one of our psychologists.”
Dannae thought of her afternoon with the little girls.
“Medica Gisfin, you don’t know how long I’ve thought about this,” she said. “You look at me as though I’m crazy, but my mother has three daughters, I have two womb sisters. Motherhood runs in my genes. Besides, I’m on the Hydromeda, just on a short shore leave—we may be going out again soon, and it might be months before I am back in Atlantic City.”
Gisfin nodded, a ghost of a smile appearing on her lips.
“I’ll assemble a team,” she said.
THREE
SHE WILL FEINT to my right and dive to my left, thought Diana methodically, gently revving the rocket pack controls in the hilt of her sparring sword. She hovered ten meters above the ground and ten meters in front of her goalmouth, warily eyeing her opponent, Centuria Anika Rulina from the Pentheselia Legion. It was the biggest Impale tournament of the year, a simple game played in a twenty-meter cube. The rocket packs enabled the players to jet to any point in the cube. To win, all you had to do was impale your blunt sparring sword in your opponent’s goalmouth. She had been through a few hard-fought rounds, but her battlefield skills and natural athletic talent had brought her to the finals.
Anika did as anticipated. Diana was already accelerating and cut her off, her steel shoulder guard hammering Anika’s helmet with a resounding clang. Their rocket packs thundered as both strove to gain altitude, but Diana had the upper hand, forcing her opponent back toward her own goalmouth. Anika swung at her rival’s body with her sword, but Diana caught the blow on her wrist bracer. The swing created an opening, and Diana stabbed Anika in the chest plate with the blunt sword, driving her toward the floor of the cube. The way to the goalmouth was clear, and Diana streaked toward it, rockets roaring. She was within an ace of impaling Anika’s goalmouth with her sword when she felt her opponent’s shoulder guard strike her belly, knocking the wind out of her. She had to jockey her rockets to keep her balance and altitude and retreat to place herself between Anika and her own goalmouth.
It was Women’s Suffrage Weekend, the biggest holiday on the Zon calendar. The Zon circle-cross insignia was everywhere, from full-size banners waving on stanchions around the arena to tiny kerchief-size ones handed out along with food and drink by the Trading Guild vendors. The amphitheater was sold out, and huntresses, priestesses, and commoners alike cheered as their favorites gained advantage and groaned as they lost it. Hildegard, Queen Empress of the Zon, was in the Imperial Box and looked on with amusement and interest, both at the contestants and her enthusiastic subjects. Her First Handmaiden, Centuria Lady Alexandra Sheel, stood at her right,
holding her ceremonial halberd with the neon-pink Imperial standard fluttering from its staff. She wore the coveted uniform of the Cohort of Palace Guardians, the toughest and most feared Zon military unit. Her loyalties in the Impale match were clear: Diana Tragina was the Cornelle of the Palace Guardians and her commander.
Princess Deirdre d’Orr, the tall, blonde First Principal of the Zon Armed Forces, entered the Imperial Box just as the crowd roared when Diana nearly scored a victory. She waited till Hildegard noticed her presence and bowed.
“Deirdre, what a pleasure to see you,” Hildegard said, smiling and rising to her feet. They parted their robes, and exchanged the traditional Zon greeting. “Please sit with me and take some katsch.”
They sat side by side and reclined on the plump feather pillows on the Queen’s chaise. Alex poured two steaming mugs of katsch and brought a tray with some honeyed sweet rolls. Deirdre took a few sips before she spoke.
“Your Imperial Majesty—” she began.
Hildegard waved her hand, interrupting. “Come, come, Deirdre, there is just Alex here with us. Skip the formality.”
Deirdre smiled. “As you wish, ma’am.” She grew serious. “I am afraid that I have bad news. I have just been on the comm with Captain Hebe Nevisina of the airship Thetis. She is in Utrea to collect the annual tribute. To cut the long story short, the Utreans are refusing to pay. Again.”
Hildegard sighed. “Oh, dear. Must we raze another one of their castles?”
Deirdre thought this response was rather flippant, but she hid her irritation. “I am afraid it is worse than that. According to Captain Hebe, King Shobar claims he will accept any destruction, but will not pay. She thinks he is in earnest, and our Utrea Resident, Rita Cristina, concurs. It also looks like he has been tunneling in the foothills of the Great Ice Range. She has sent us some video feed. From the air we cannot tell what they have put underground, out of the reach of our airborne weapons.”
The Empire of the Zon Page 5