by David Welch
“Lives could be at stake,” Ken interrupted.
“There are noncrippling methods,” Rick pointed out.
“Fake drowning won’t work,” Lucius said. “They’re trained to resist that, for days if need be.”
Rick glanced to Keith for concurrence.
“They are,” Keith said simply. Rick did not seem to like this answer, and turned his glare back to Lucius.
“You sound like you know this from personal experience?” Rick asked, his voice on edge.
“One of my older half-brothers trained to be a spy. He told me all about the techniques they use to prepare a person for the task,” Lucius explained.
“Being resistant is not being immune,” noted Ken.
“We do know one way we can make a male talk,” Second piped up.
Eyes turned to her. Rex half-suspected that Cindy and her people had forgotten she was there, given how quiet she’d been.
“Vermella has the ability to warp a man’s mind,” Second said simply.
“No,” Rex said coolly.
“It’s not a terrible idea,” said Lucius. “Use evil to fight evil…kind of ironic really.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Cindy. “Who is Vermella?”
“She’s a prisoner, a nasty piece of work we have locked in our isolation bay,” Rex explained.
“You have her locked in your medical bay?” asked Rick. “What did she do?”
“She rapes and enslaves people,” Rex said. “Tried it out on us, evil little trick she does with pheromones.”
“What do you mean?” Keith asked, leaning forward in his chair.
“I mean her people genetically altered themselves to produce massive amounts of synthetic pheromones, designed specifically to drive a man to such high levels of lust that they will do absolutely anything for her,” Rex explained, deciding to leave our the part about imprinting viruses.
For a moment they sat in silence.
“Is such a thing even possible?” asked Cindy.
“Yeah. It’s possible. Believe me,” Rex answered. “This universe doesn’t discriminate by sex when it comes to evil.”
“If what you’re saying is true…then she does to men what nobles do to serfs every day,” said Ken.
“Yes,” said Rex. “But at least you could escape it. The nobles never could get into your actual head and twist it around.”
“Well, yes, very true,” said Ken. “But considering what Viscount Vasa no doubt did to his serfs, would it really be all that bad returning the favor?”
“Ask Second,” Rex remarked. “She can tell you all about what it’s like to not be in control of your own mind.”
Predictably all eyes turned toward her. Second did not look embarrassed by this; in fact she stared about curiously.
“It is not pleasant,” she replied matter-of-factly.
Rex rolled his eyes.
“My friend has a gift for understatement,” he remarked.
“But it was unpleasant,” Second emphasized.
“I understand your hesitation,” Ken pushed on. “But if they are really planning something, some move against us, can we really afford to let this opportunity pass us by? There are more than seven hundred people in this valley. Could any of us sleep at night knowing we put them all at risk because we didn’t want to inconvenience a damned Europan ‘nobleman’?”
Again silence fell over them.
“Do ends justify the means now Ken?” asked Keith. “I lived by that philosophy for many years. It is not an easy one to come back from.”
“It’s all academic anyway,” said Rex with a wave of his hand. “Vermella hates us. We foiled her best-laid plans and locked her in a closet. She would never help us, even if we subjected her to fake drowning.”
“No, I don’t think torture would work on a person as wrapped in hate as she is,” Lucius ventured. “But if the stick doesn’t work, perhaps the carrot might.”
“I don’t think there’s enough gold on this ship to bribe her into helping us,” said Rex.
“Not gold. Time,” Lucius declared.
The locals looked on with lost expressions. Second seemed surprised and pleased with herself, no doubt having pieced together Lucius’s intention. Rex scowled at his gunner.
“Out of the question,” Rex said.
“If there’s anything that can break through her rage, it’s the chance of doubling her life span. People will do anything to put off death, and we have the ability to do that,” Lucius pushed.
“Put off death? What are you talking about?” Cindy interjected.
“I’m talking about nanobots,” said Lucius. “Look at Rex there. This man is fifty-five years old.”
The locals laughed. Even Keith smirked.
“Impossible. Hell, I’m forty-three. I could almost be his mother!” Cindy laughed.
“No, you couldn’t,” said Rex. “I am fifty-five.”
“I don’t believe it,” Rick said. “Everybody knows Terrans tell tales about this nonsense.”
“They are no tall tales,” said Lucius simply. “If we want Vermella to do what we want, that’s our way.”
He and Rex stared at each other, neither budging.
“As a last resort only,” said Rex coldly. “I’m not letting that monster out unless we have no other choice. Try your fake drowning first.”
Ken frowned but looked to Cindy for concurrence. She nodded simply. Ken mimicked the nod and spoke:
“As you wish.”
***
“Baliol.”
Lucius frowned at the sound of his old name. He turned and saw Keith moving to follow him, the meeting haven just broken up.
“Something you need?” Lucius asked carefully.
“I think you and I have some things to discuss,” Keith said gravely.
Lucius frowned. He couldn’t say he hadn’t been expecting something like this.
“Fine. But we discuss up there,” Lucius said, pointing above him. They were on the starboard side of the ship, beneath the observation blister. A metal ladder climbed upward, to a hatch.
“What’s up there?” asked Keith warily.
“A view. Since I’m not allowed to leave the ship, it’s the only way I get to see this world of yours,” said Lucius.
Keith hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. Lucius started up the ladder. The ship’s computer opened the hatch for him, and then the observation blister on his order. The thick plastiglass hinged back, revealing the top of the ship. Lucius stepped out, taking a moment to feel the cool breeze of the northern latitudes against his chest. Keith followed moments later.
It was a different world out here. Perched 130 feet off the tarmac, Lucius had a fantastic view of the surrounding countryside, interrupted only by the dorsal engine nacelle. It was the first chance he really got to look at any of it.
Just north, only a few hundred yards from the tarmac, was the town. It had a Tudor look to it, though its buildings lacked the distinctive whitewashed walls that the style was so famous for. They had the dark framing beams, but they seemed to be filled with smaller, brown-stained, wooden siding. Steep-sided roofs crowned them, no doubt to slake off snow.
There were some exceptions to the trend. One building near the center of town was ugly, squat, and solidly brick. He could see what looked like a church spire to the north, on one of the east-to-west-running parallel streets that made up the bulk of the village.
He turned from it. His gaze alighted on rocky mountains, their summits capped with eternal white. Below that was the gray of lifeless stone, followed by the brown sedges of alpine tundra. Further still open parkland forests appeared, running toward the valley floor. Some of the lower slopes had been cleared, and small dots milled about them—livestock.
To the south was the valley itself. It was a quarter-mile wide, give or take some yards. A single dirt road ran down its center, alongside a meandering creek. A few copses of aspen and willow clung to the river banks, but that was pretty muc
h it as far as trees went. Isolated houses dotted the road as far as he could see, separated by several hundred yards of space. They were ranch houses, complete with small outbuildings. No doubt the owners also owned the livestock that seemed to browse the vast, open spaces of the valley floor.
He squinted at the nearest of these animals. They looked cowlike, but they were big, maybe seven feet at the shoulder. And they were covered entirely in shaggy, mottled-white hair. It almost looked like winter camouflage. They had horns, but they spiraled like a ram’s rather than extending outward like a cow’s. Their snouts too were sheeplike, narrower and more pointed than a cow’s.
“What are those?” he said, gesturing.
“Bighorn highlands,” Keith said. “The Angleseyu created them.”
“Never seen anything like it. Taste any good?”
“More like beef than mutton,” Keith said, a bit uncomfortably. “You do understand it’s not livestock I want to talk to you about?”
Lucius sighed and nodded. “I do.”
“My wife…she really hates you,” said Keith.
“She has reason to,” said Lucius.
“And I love my wife…” Keith continued.
“Enough to kill for her?” Lucius said, cutting to the chase.
Keith was silent for a long moment and then nodded.
“If she asks me to,” he said quietly.
“Hmm…” said Lucius, strolling a bit closer to the edge of the ship. “I suppose I should point out at this juncture that it’s a bit hypocritical for a former warrior to stand in judgment of me.”
“It is. But it’s her judgment that drives this, not mine,” said Keith.
“Oh, I don’t doubt your love for her. I just think you should take into account the fairly obvious parallels between us,” Lucius declared. “Your councilors say you get a pass because you were under the command of a noble, not able to make your own decisions. But we all know that warriors do not spend every waking moment at a noble’s side, that when warriors go out on patrol or are on security duty they are known to…‘have their fill,’ shall I say?”
“Entirely true,” Keith replied. Lucius watched the man quietly for a moment. There did not seem to be any attempt at deception here, just a blunt honesty. He figured Rex would probably be this guy’s best friend within a matter of days.
“So we are both terrible men,” Lucius said.
“We are.”
“Trying to be something different,” Lucius added.
“I am something different,” Keith declared.
Lucius nodded, admiring the man’s certainty.
“What was your name? Before you were Keith I mean,” said Lucius.
“Tacetmortem,” Keith answered.
“Silent Death?” asked Lucius.
“I kept my cool during battle,” Keith answered.
“And how did ‘Silent Death’ end up here?”
“I was assigned to guard serfs on one of my master’s transports. The Radonjic Four. The serfs rebelled, the techs joined them,” said Keith.
“And you sided with them?”
“They killed the other seven warriors on board. I had no desire to die, so I switched sides and helped them rush the bridge and kill Viscount Radonjic,” Keith explained.
“The baron’s son?” asked Lucius.
“Yes. He was flying the ship to his father’s new estate on Westergaard,” said Keith. “Since I helped the serfs, they didn’t kill me. We jumped for the Quarter, and eventually heard of this place.”
“And Kate?” Lucius asked.
“A bed serf on the ship, eleven years old at the time. Soon to begin ‘grooming,’ so she would know how best to please her future master,” Keith said, a darkness creeping into his voice.
“You took her as your own? As a daughter?” said Lucius.
“She had nobody to look after her,” said Keith. “Both of us were alone, so yes, I adopted her.”
Lucius nodded. It wasn’t an unfamiliar story. Numerous ships had been taken over by angry serfs. It was the most common way they escaped. Given that techs were serfs themselves, albeit with more perks, it wasn’t impossible for them to be “convinced” to rebel. But letting a warrior survive, and even join them? That was unusual.
“And Helen came later?” Lucius asked.
“Two years ago,” said Keith angrily. “A year after you left…a year she spent being sold from warlord to warlord…used, violated…”
Lucius frowned, knowing all too well what Keith spoke of. As bad as being a serf was, being sold to a Chaos Quarter thug was usually far worse. Awful as the nobles of Europa were, they at least had wealth, and food, and a twisted form of stability. Serfs that didn’t cause too much trouble generally lived long enough to be worked to death. But in the Quarter there was the same degradation and pain, but without the predictability. One moment you were a warlord’s concubine, and then you were a barrack’s whore, and then a laborer, and then a human sacrifice to some crazy cult’s crazy God. One minute you were a status symbol—a “Europan bed serf” that your new master could show off to his barbarous friends—the next you were shoved out an air lock into the cold embrace of the void.
Lucius knew it all too well because Chakrika had told him about it. She had never been a serf, but she had spent her teenage years being passed around like currency. That was the type of hell Helen had faced after being sold off.
“They sold her to get back at me?” Lucius asked, his voice quivering slightly.
“They sold any concubine you’d ever taken into a harem, all to Chaos Quarter scum,” Keith revealed.
“And what she said…a…about our children…” Lucius managed, not wanting to hear the answer that he knew all too well was coming.
“Yes,” Keith said. “Not just the ones you forced on her. All the children you sired, boys and girls. From what she’s told me, they were all killed…in front of their mothers.”
Who were then sold off like cattle, Lucius thought. He hugged himself against the cool breeze, knowing all the while that the chill running down his spine had nothing to do with the weather.
“May God protect them all,” he said softly.
“She told me once that she would sneak peeks at them,” Keith explained. “After you were bored with her she didn’t go to the stables. Your fosterer Lord Baliol did not think her exceptional enough to be bred, either for looks or temperament. So she went back to the villages to labor. We both know that no serf woman would ever be allowed to raise her own biological children. But she knew who their wet nurses were. And while her fellow serfs spent their nights drinking and fucking to try and grasp some small pleasure out of life, she would sneak out and spy on them. Spy on her own children…the only way should could ever see them.”
Lucius swallowed back his emotion.
“So when you fled, when they dragged the children out and made her watch…she knew. Not like your other victims. She knew who they were, knew that they were hers,” Keith pressed on.
“Stop,” said Lucius, halfheartedly.
“Did you stop?” Keith asked. “Did you stop to think what your revenge would do to those left behind?”
“No!” Lucius snapped. “No, I didn’t. That is what you want to hear, yes? I didn’t think clearly because the woman I loved and my newborn daughter were lying dead right before my eyes. My father, my noble ‘wife’—they had done it, and they had the temerity to lecture me on the foolishness of my ways as I stood there, looking on! They reprimanded me after they had murdered the only people who mattered to me! So no, I didn’t think! I Killed Them.”
Now it was Keith who shrank back, clearly surprised by the outburst of emotion.
“Were you in that situation, if you had to see Helen and Kate dead on the floor, while their murderers talked down to you like you were some sort of insolent boy, would you be able to stand there and think about every possible outcome your actions could have? Or would you have taken up your gun and did exactly what I did?” Lucius seethed.
“I-I don’t know,” Keith stammered.
“I think you would’ve,” said Lucius. “You who are so ready to kill me on your wife’s command…I think you would’ve done the same damned thing.”
“Maybe…but it doesn’t change anything. You actions—”
“Ruined lives,” said Lucius. “That’s what we Europans do, isn’t it? We rape and brutalize and kill, and even when we try to go right, we still ‘clusterfuck it all to hell,’ too borrow a Terran phrase.”
“Perhaps,” said Keith. “I’ve done everything you just described. As you said, warriors are not watched every minute of every day.”
“And yet you’ll still kill me, should Helen ask,” said Lucius.
“Yes. It’s different with her. She’s my wife, and you were her tormentor,” said Keith simply.
Lucius nodded, and paced a bit, in thought. He took a deep breath of cool air and then fixed his gaze on Keith.
“If I ran into any of the people who tormented my wife when she was a teen, I would kill them,” said Lucius. “I’d be right where you are.”
“She hasn’t asked yet…but if she does…” said Keith.
“If she does come for me, or asks you or Kate to do it, I will defend myself,” Lucius said firmly. “I may have been caught off guard when the doors opened and I saw her standing there; I may have let my guilt overwhelm my sense of self-preservation, but that will not happen again. My understanding of her pain does not mean I will stand by and let you kill me. I have a wife. I have a son. My only son now. I do not intend to leave them. I do not intend to let the first twenty years of my life determine the next one hundred thirty. So I will defend myself. If that means killing you, so be it. If that means I have to use force against Kate or Helen…”
Keith’s fist tightened.
“Tread carefully, Baliol.”
“It is no threat, just a statement of fact,” said Lucius. “I do not want to kill or hurt anyone. I want you and Kate and Helen, and that child she carries, to live long, happy, and free lives here. I want you to have a half-dozen more fat and happy children scampering around your feet.”