The Nerd Turned Conqueror: A Fantasy Harem Adventure

by Oscar Reeds

  Penna was on the other side of the planet, enjoying himself in the Tourist district. It was the one area of this entire planet that allowed visitors to enter. Naturally, he saw plenty of people from various worlds relaxing, enjoying the sunlight, bathing, swimming, playing sports or other games, reading in the parks, relaxing in special relax-houses, talking to passengers, walking their pets, and some were even having outdoor outright sex before the world. It was an interesting sight to see, at least according to Penna. Though he wasn’t much of a tourism type, he did enjoy resting every now and again.

  Knowing what I had personally put him through all those…erm, days ago, I gave him an “order” to enjoy himself, though his group was still to pay attention to what’s going on. I have to admit, I’ve never heard Penna more pleased than when he dropped down onto a comfy bed and just sighed in relief. He had clearly needed to unwind, it seemed. From what I understand, he slept through the majority of the mission, and only woke up when I assumed control of Clovier 5. But his team was already at work. They managed to notice several key figures that were secretly working against the Clovier “regime.” They were largely fat diplomats themselves from distant worlds, or businessmen of ill repute, or spoiled ladies who inherited money from their husbands of fathers and were willing to go along any crazy scheme, or even just outright villains who posed as benefactors. I had my eye on all of them after the report from Penna’s group came, but it was still early for me to engage.

  Giraud was, naturally, in the Tech district, feeling at home with the many, many machines and factories he saw about him. Giraud was an especially intelligent young Girodian whom I was later to appoint head scientist of his planet. That kid could literally think circles around Tesla and Einstein, and still have enough brainpower to dick around with Elon Musk and Bill Gates. What most Girodians did in minutes, he would do in a single second. I appreciated that with him, so I allowed him to lead this particular expedition on his own.

  Of course, I wasn’t disappointed. Giraud immediately started taking rapid notes and recorded every single important piece of information. He had singlehandedly deduced how the electrical and nuclear grid worked on Clovier 5, correctly assuming that they had important, if not THE MOST important centers right there in the Tech district, and that shutting them down would cause a power outage that would last at least an hour. Moreover, he remarked that the hydroelectric grid was out of date, and that one strategic blow to the dam would flood a good chunk of the sector it was in. However, he was also stunned himself. Most of the tech he was looking at was years ahead of what Girodia had to offer, so he was also learning on his feet. The few Girodians he took with him helped him research the things they saw on the spot, with the Valahs giving their input. Not as scientifically minded as these two races, the Ehre and the Dahrmites focused their efforts on researching the defenses of the district. They found them lacking, and I was appropriately briefed about it. Evidently the diplomats saw no reason to protect an area which had already possessed automatic, robotic protection. A detail that would bite them in the ass considering what Giraud was about to do to them. For now, like other teams, he stayed put.

  Another perfect fit was Iana being in the Artistic district. Much like other Cybels, she reveled in the arts, and the artists of Clovier 5 were probably the only honest thing about the whole place. They were all largely young men and women (and again I stress – some aliens of indeterminate gender) who immersed themselves in the creative endeavors. There were some classic works – pottery was popular, as was sculpting and painting. There were a few woodcutters, a few mosaic makers, and to an extent even jewelers. Iana found those particularly interesting. Yet there were also lots of digital visual arts, such as crafting of spectacular holograms, doing multi-dimensional printing, performing dances with virtual beings, etc. Auditory arts also took center stage, with singers and orators reciting poetry, fine prose, and performing drama unlike anything the Earth will ever come to know. There was even some satire, though judging by what Iana said, it was tame and mild, more or less what John Oliver and similar spineless wussies do on television nowadays.

  Iana had a keen eye for detail. I noticed that the moment she followed me with Miona to our room during our night of sexual pleasure. Naturally, I did it with Iana too, but unlike others, we actually sat the rest of our time together and discussed things, difficult things, things that require most men a lifetime to learn. As such, her task was to spot art that specifically focused on deposing the current system, which she did. With rapid success, I might add. Iana’s crew also looked out for potential art dealers that sold anti-propaganda. Their info also wound up filed for later use, and we had one more district to look over.

  That was the Political district, which Fawkes was visiting, and where I was hiding away after leaving the meeting with the leading diplomats. Fawkes was never that fascinated with politics, nor did he have any eye for detail, nor did he like modern tech. But he was street-smart, and I needed street-smart in the belly of the beast. Every bit of info he provided was the kind I wanted and needed to hear said in his particular language. He spoke of upstart pricks walking about like they owned the place (which they did, but that’s beside the point), of political parties having representatives on every goddamn corner, of leaflets, booklets, and pamphlets lining the street corners, of orators bullshitting on the streets to a mesmerized crowd, and last, but definitely not least, of the main buildings, the ones that literally ran the entire planet.

  He entered one of these, the so-called Palace of Benevolence. It was meant to represent all charities, NGOs (an oxymoron if ever I heard one), humanitarian efforts, etc. But it ran like any other political building – there were people smoking thick cigars (which made me giggle and think of Space Cuba), other people throwing money around, secretaries being overworked, underpaid, and ultra-fucked, and so on. Fawkes relayed all of this info to me, and then he gave me the best bit yet – he gave me the names of every single politician he knew, by instinct, could be bought. Now I was ready to set my plan into notion.

  Using the lists Fawkes, Arduck, Iana, and the people in Penna’s group gave me, I held a secret meeting in a particularly hidden part of the political district. By teleporter, these people were assembled, and upon learning of who I was, they immediately began to fidget in fear. One tried to escape, but an Ehre trooper of mine shot him. The rest chose to comply after that. I mentioned that there were ways we could take over the planet and split their share of power, but that I needed them to lift the defenses that prevented me from staying on the planet. One of the corrupt politicians, in cahoots with some foreign agents and administrative upstarts, offered to sneak me and my men in to the point where the security system was maintained. I was to give him dominion over the planet (immediately after me, of course) when he completed the task. I promised him that I would, and Norman grinned. He was surprisingly silent during our visit to Clovier 5, but since I was too busy thinking about my conquest, I paid him no heed.

  In the meantime, Giraud was to cause some mischief by damaging the tech running the planet. His team of ten, him included, was split at specific locations with charges set to explode. They opened up a portal behind them and, just before they fully entered them, pressed the button on the explosives. They were safely with my crew when the Tech district caught fire. Massive explosions brought the law enforcement and the repairmen to the site, which now had the majority of the forces defending it. But that’s when Giraud’s second part of the plan came into notion – he used the teleporters to take out the biggest possible chunk of land imaginable – the entire section containing the factories and power grids. In a matter of seconds, the massive pile of soil fell like a meteor onto the people beneath, crushing them to their certain death. The entire planet was now in panic mode, though the only place with any power left was the Political district, where we all were.

  The politician and his crew took me and my own crew to the place where the security system was maintained, the one that
prevented me from approaching Clovier 5. Upon demanding that I reassure him of his dominion over the planet, the corrupt politician was surprised when he found a small, sharp metal pen jammed into his head by way of my telekinesis. His crew suffered as well, but in a less gruesome way. Since Giraud was now teleported there with me, he used his knowledge to not only disable the security system directed at me personally, but to eradicate the entirety of security from the planet, making it vulnerable to outside attacks.

  That was the cue for my space-borne troops to invade. They came down hard onto Cloveir 5, shooting lasers and throwing projectiles every which where, giving the people of that planet massive headaches. Administration was in utter chaos, which gave their upstarts a reason to rebel and to murder their coworkers. The tourists were fleeing one after another, but strangely Penna was still asleep somewhere. Most artists fled inside and waited for the fighting to stop. Most politicians were protected by their guards, but nobody expected what was to come next.

  Exiting with my other crew-leaders and our respective crews, I released our masks, and we were now in full view of everyone. People either booed or cheered as I declared myself emperor of Clovier 5. Politicians were enraged. One of them, who looked suspiciously like Jean-Claude Juncker, called me the Murderer of Democracy, the penultimate epithet I was to receive. The one Iana gave me sounded far better – the Conqueror of Seven Worlds. As my first act of ruling Clovier 5, I murdered each and every member of the upper class that ruled over it, and then took out each traitor that helped me get to where I was. That way I signaled to everyone that I was not to be trifled with. Reviving a few key figures, I artificially crafted several hundred loyal princes and placed them in key positions based on the advice the revived few gave me. As their reward, I let them live in the outskirts of the Art district, which, along with the Tourist district, I allowed to function independently. That was it. Clovier 5, the diplomatic nightmare of the universe, was now my vassal. Ruling it, I more or less held the fate of the whole galaxy in my hand.

  ***

  Our ship was several miles away from Earth now. I was sitting in a chair, contemplating. Norman actually broke the silence for once.

  “You’re an emperor now, kid,” he said, “I must admit, I am somewhat impressed.”

  I grinned.

  “Yes. I am the mighty Conrad, the Conqueror of Seven Worlds… And I feel great!”

  “Why just seven, though?” he asked. And he was somewhat on point – it took me less than a week to get them all under my thumb. If I could, I would probably conquer the whole galaxy in a year or so.

  But I shrugged.

  “I have everything I need, Norman,” I replied. “Two massive armies in the Dahrmites and the Ehre, powerful teleportation technology, women willing to bear my new offspring, weapons that could destroy anything, material that’s harder and more durable than anything in the world, literally tons of raw natural resources, and a diplomatic entity that allows me to do whatever I want wherever I wanted it.”

  He wasn’t impressed.

  “What’s wrong, Norman?”

  “Maybe you ought to be answering that question yourself.”

  I don’t know how, but he saw right through me. Or at least I thought he did. I sighed and slouched in my chair.

  “Norman, I have been through hell as a kid,” I started. “I’ve been bullied, beaten, hated, hit, despised, dick-slapped… And I never really had friends.” Tears swelled in my eyes, and I hated that that was the case. “My entire life, I was friendless. I mean, a few weeks ago I was going to kill myself! And now I rule almost ten entire planets?!”

  Norman wanted to correct my number there, but chose not to.

  “Look at me!” I pointed at myself violently, as if trying to prove an unspoken point. “I am still a nobody! I am still that pathetic creature from Knee Dahcologne! How the hell does someone get rid of that?!”

  He said nothing as I cried into my chair. Luckily there was nobody else on the bridge of our ship. It was just me and Norman.

  And surprisingly, Norman replied.

  “Look, kid,” he said, now hovering over three meters across the room from me. I hadn’t noticed this change before. “The world offers you lots of rotten luck. And once you have rotten luck, you ought to remember that it’s better than no luck at all.”

  That honestly seemed like an empty statement to me at the time.

  “In other words, kid,” he crossed his arms, “you make your own luck. You grab it by the throat. You go to damn war with everything that’s bothering you and you come out a victor. You employ patience, you play nice when nice is needed, but at that crucial moment, at that moment of utter dissipation – you damn well better shine. And you shine like you mean to win! Like you’re damn well meant to!”

  I think that was my first honest smile in a very long time. Or at least during that week.

  “Thank you, Norman,” I said. “Now let’s go to Earth. We have much to do.”

  Chapter 10

  Home sweet home, as the saying goes. And it was a glorious comeback for me. It took roughly a few days for my exploits to become known on Earth, and all of a sudden Knee Dahcologne seemed like a busier, larger, more populated city, and not a shithole that it always was. People were lining up at the streets willing and wanting to see who that guy was that conquered planets…and who the aliens were that were beaten by him.

  Honestly, I grew to like all of the attention. I still remember that press conference. Most people over there were overdressed, overpaid journos with little respect to the actual truth. Especially those dingbats at CNN. But I tried my damnedest to be accommodating to everyone. And the best way to show off good will was to actually present them with some aliens.

  I first allowed Penna to speak.

  “Colonel Penna,” a reporter from Newsweek asked, “you used to be an opponent to our Conrad here. Can you tell me what changed?”

  “Well, he killed me, then revived me, then killed me, then revived me, then had me die, then revived me, and here I am.”

  Most people were confused.

  “In terms of military tactics, though, Emperor Cornad has no match. I’ve never seen anyone conquer that many planets in that short amount of time.”

  “What of your queen?”

  “Empress. Empress Endolande,” he corrected the man, but I stopped him from continuing to speak.

  “Penna’s knowledge is blurry of the events on the Dahrmite planet,” I said. “He tends to mix up dates and people, so I’d suggest you ask others for questions.” Because of the looks I was receiving, I sighed and continued. “Yes, I did, in fact, kill him and resurrect him several times, but he is far from danger now, as he is one of my most trusted, most loyal, and most powerful colonels.”

  Another such colonel was getting a question. Or rather, a general.

  “Arduck, sir,” a tiny, unimpressive man from Fox News held out his microphone, “were you initially skeptical of Conrad’s intentions.”

  Arduck didn’t mince words.

  “Yes. I saw him as a danger, and it didn’t subside until I actually saw him in battle. Now I would gladly be one of his generals in any upcoming war.”

  “But how can you put up with a human being ruling over your planet?” a provocateur from Vox Magazine asked, and she was a little excited over the question. I’d later learn that she had a Tumblr account and a fetish for prepubescent children in diapers. Arduck, again, did not flinch.

  “No. Any warrior that takes his empire by force and improves upon it owns it by all rights.”

  At long last, Iana’s turn came along, and her question was provided by ABC News.

  “Madame Iana, are you more of a warrior or more of a woman to Conrad?”

  She smiled.

  “Emperor Cornad was and is and always will be important to me in both those areas.”

  There was a massive gasp, but only I heard the one coming from Melissa, who was in the crowd. I wanted t
o stop Iana from talking, but I had nothing to use as an excuse.

  “In fact,” she continued, “his first claim to fame is ritually owning the queen of the Dahrmites by sex.”

  And that was it. Melissa ran off with tears in her eyes. The press did not notice this; they were too busy fawning over my achievement with the space ladies. Penna was merely shaking his head in disappointment. Damnit, I had to do something.

  The conference ended in about an hour. I had several irate phone calls from the Pentagon, but I chose to ignore them. I had to talk to Melissa.

  “I don’t get it, Janine,” I said, while she cooked tea for me. “I mean, Melissa knew that I was going into space to dick a bunch of women. Why would she act like that?”

  “I don’t know, genius,” she said, clearly sarcastically, but in a more friendly tone. “Why WOULD she act like that?”

  “Because…” I dreaded to say this. “Because she loves me?”

  “And why are YOU acting like this?”

  “…because I love her baaaack.” I dragged out that last word, kind of cringing, but knowing that Janine was right.

  She smiled and got up.

  “Look, champ, I’ll go talk to her. After all, you need to get ready. Your space guests will want a tour of your birthplace.”

  She wasn’t wrong, I thought as I watched her leave. Right now both Penna and Arduck were asleep, while Iana painted and Fawkes enjoyed some Earth food in the open kitchen next to the park. Giraud didn’t come with us, as he was busy overseeing hundreds of massive shipments I was about to perform.

  “Norman,” I called out. He sat cross-armed before me and looked at me in a way that a disappointed father looks at a child. “Norman, what is love?”

  “A crutch,” he said, coldly. Lovely person to discuss this, I thought.

  “Come on, man! Haven’t you ever loved before?”

  “I did.”

  This came as a shock.

  “So, um…”

  “And after that event,” he said, with an expression I figured might be a deep frown, but which I could really not accurately interpret, “I never wanted to love again.”