by M. D. Cooper
“OK. You’re right. I can’t joke around…or deflect…any longer. But I agree with you, Chase. ‘Queen’ is way better than ‘magnus’.”
“Good,” Leslie stifled a yawn. “Now that that’s settled, I’m going to go get some shut-eye. It’s been three days since I’ve slept.”
“Barne gonna let you?” Chase gave her a knowing look.
“He’d better, or I’ll kick his ass right out an airlock.”
Rika snorted. “I would pay to see that.”
PERIL
STELLAR DATE: 05.28.8950 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Slyfe
REGION: Gerra System, Old Genevia, Nietzschean Empire
“Captain Becky.”
Becky looked up from her silver and gold coffee mug and sighed. “What is it now, Dara?”
“Well, the stationmaster’s office just reached out and said that the promotional token you tried to use for the docking tug was expired, so we have to pay the full amount.”
“Are you kidding me?” Becky half-rose from her captain’s seat. “I’m not paying full price for a docking tug. I’ve never paid full price. Get me the stationmaster. I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind.”
Dara gave a meek nod from her place at the comm station, and turned back to her console. “Yes, Captain. I’ll tell them that.”
The woman muttered something under her breath, and Becky slid forward to the edge of her seat. “What was that?”
“I—I was just wondering if you ever get tired of doing this?”
“Doing what?” Becky demanded.
“You know,” Dara replied quietly. “Pretending you have valid codes for a discount when you don’t, then getting…very persistent until they comp us a tug.”
Becky snorted before settling back into her seat and taking a sip of her designer coffee. “Well, if my wife had left me with a large enough credit store for shopping and nuisances like this, it wouldn’t have to happen. But since they can be manipulated so easily, why not?”
“Umm…I guess. Sure. OK, I have the stationmaster. His name’s Barry.”
“I know,” Becky waved her hand in dismissal. “He and I have done this dance before.”
A holoimage of a man appeared before Becky, and she gave a warm smile.
“Barty! Good to see you. I assume you’re going to honor our codes?”
“Captain Becky,” the man’s brow was pulled down almost over his eyes. “You know that’s not possible right now. Not only are those codes ancient, but we have more important things to worry about than you trying to save a buck.”
“What do you have to worry about?” Becky pressed. “And don’t forget, my wife’s company does significant trade with your station.”
Barry pursed his lips. “With the Niets pulling out, I have no idea who will be doing what sort of trade—which is why we’re not going to play your little game this time.”
It took a moment for the words to fully sink in, but when they did, she nearly spat out her coffee. “The whats are doing what?”
“Shit, Becky, can you drag your face out of your stellar spice latte long enough to check the feeds?” Barry ground out the words in a tone of pure annoyance that he’d never directed at her before. “The Nietzscheans are leaving the Gerra System. Pulling out. Poof.”
She rolled the words around in her mind, trying to make sense of them. After some consideration, she replied, “But they can’t.”
“Well, you can tell them that,” Barry said. “Right after you pay full price for a docking tug.”
Becky didn’t fully hear what the stationmaster had said. Not that she cared. He wasn’t focusing on the right issues. “How are they going to police the system? It’s not possible!”
“Fuck,” Barry muttered, and the holodisplay changed to show a closeup view of Gepa, the single habitable planet in the Gerra System. A group of Nietzschean cruisers were closer to the viewpoint, and scrolling text at the bottom of the screen read, ‘NIETZSCHEAN SYSTEM COMMAND HAS LEFT THE PLANET’.
Shaking her head in disbelief, Becky took another sip. “No. They must just be moving.”
“Core, woman! They’re not ‘moving’. This is all anyone has been talking about for a day. Check the feeds, all their ships are pulling away fro—”
The stationmaster’s words were cut off by Becky’s scream as she pointed at the screen. “What’re they doing?! Are they—?”
Words failed her as she watched a dozen missiles streak away from the ships on the display, all headed toward Gepa. None of the planetary defenses fired, and a minute later, nuclear fireballs began to appear on the planet’s surface.
“Fuuuuuck,” Dara breathed out. “They’re going to burn it to ash.”
“So,” Barry responded, the holodisplay flipping back to show his stern features. “Now you understand? Full price for the tug, or I seize your ship for trespassing.”
Becky nodded wordlessly.
“Good.” Barry closed the connection, and Becky stared down into her coffee.
“I can’t believe they did that. How could they?” she whispered.
Dara shook her head. “I don’t know, Captain. But we need to decide where we’re going. Because it sure isn’t to Gepa anymore.”
“We’re staying faaaaar away from that place,” Becky replied, pulling up system traffic reports.
They confirmed what Barry had told her. Nietzschean warships were boosting away from every station. She didn’t know if it represented all of their ships, but a variety of pundits seemed to think so.
“They’re heading for nearby jump points,” Dara said. “There’s only one available to us.”
“Which? Becky asked, and the other woman highlighted it.
“Genevia? No no no! Find something else. Robot mercenaries just took Genevia!”
The display flashed red warnings at three locations around the system, and Dara let out a string of expletives.
“What?” Becky demanded.
“Those are—were—stations,” Dara whispered. “Captain, Genevia is our best bet. We don’t know—”
“Plot it,” Becky whispered. “The moment the tug releases hold of us, we make for the Genevia jump point. I don’t care what’s going on there. It has to be better than this.”
RESPITE
STELLAR DATE: 05.28.8950 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Fury Lance, Belgium
REGION: Genevia System, New Genevian Alliance
Rika rolled off Chase and flopped onto the bed next to him, blowing out a long breath followed by a contented sigh.
“You done over there yet?” Chase asked. “I’m trying to go to sleep.”
“What?” Rika squeaked, propping herself up on one arm to see a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Oh, you jerk. And here I thought I’d somehow made you nod off.”
The hint turned into a grin, and he grabbed her shoulder, pulling her close. “No chance, my queen.”
“Sto—”
“Nuh uh!” Chase interrupted her, holding up a finger. “You have to get used to it.”
“Yeah, sure, but not here,” Rika said in protest.
He lifted his lips to meet hers. “Especially here.”
They kissed deeply, matte grey flow armor bodies pressed against one another as they sought comfort and succor in sharing themselves with each other.
“My queen,” Chase whispered fiercely as they began anew. “I’ll serve you forever.”
“Oh?” Rika asked, the question punctuated by a gasp. “Does that mean you’ll be my consort?”
He reached around and slapped her ass. “Consort? That’s all I rate?”
Rika straightened, fixing him with a glare. “Well, I don’t know what the law is about taking a king. Besides, that would totally muddy the chain of comaaaaaand…”
His hands had found her breasts—which were properly sensitive after the ISF had performed her Mark 4 upgrades—his thumbs rolling around the small nubs
that marked her nipples.
“Oh Finaeus,” she moaned.
Chase made a choking sound. “Sorry, what?”
“Er…” Rika giggled with embarrassment. “I was just thanking Finaeus for his attention to detail when he crafted our new bodies.”
Chase laughed and grabbed both her shoulders, pulling her back down again, his lips brushing her ear. “Well, if you’re all excited about our upgraded bodies, let’s do that thing we were talking about the other day. Just…”
“Hmmm?” Rika moaned the question softly.
“Don’t call out Finaeus’s name. Now I’m picturing his mug in my head.”
Rika slid her hands around his back, lifting him until they were both upright. “You know Finaeus is totally hot, right?”
“Stop already!”
* * * * *
An hour later, the couple lay on the bed, chests heaving, and Rika couldn’t help but laugh.
“You’re not dozing off now, are you?”
“I might pass out,” Chase slid his hands behind his head. “But it certainly wouldn’t qualify as dozing off.”
Rika propped herself up again and stared into his eyes. “Do you think I’ll make a good queen? Sorry to come off as needy…I just need a bit of affirmation here.”
His eyes had been closed, but they opened wide and stared into hers with a look of utter contentment. “Rika, you’ve been our queen since the day you took the fight to the Politica and freed our people there. But you’re not some preening debutante on a throne, you’re a warrior who leads from the front and never asks anything of her people that she won’t do herself. That’s why I follow you. That’s why we all follow you.”
He reached up and stroked her cheek before his eyes closed once more.
“Thanks, Chase. I really needed to hear that.”
“Great, now can you finally let me go to sleep?”
She gave a mock gasp and pinched his arm. “Oh, now you’re in for it!”
LEADER ODA
STELLAR DATE: 06.01.8950 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Mount Genevia, Belgium
REGION: Genevia System, New Genevian Alliance
Rika stood at the window of the audience room on the estate atop Mount Genevia, forcing herself to see it as it was now, and not how it had been when she’d fought Constantine’s soldiers and killed the Nietzschean emperor.
“It looks different when it’s your throne room, doesn’t it?” a voice asked from behind her.
She turned to see Tremon entering the room, his shadow, Yakob, not far behind. The former president’s guard exchanged a nod with Kelly, who stood near the entrance, watching over Rika.
Kelli and Shoshin were nearby, prowling the halls in full stealth, keeping an eye peeled for anything that could harm their new queen—the only title they used for her now, though it would still be some time before she’d be coronated.
“Is it different now that it’s not yours?” Rika asked the man who had once called the estate his home.
Tremon chuckled as he reached her side and looked out over the valley below, something made easier due to the swath of destruction Colonel Borden’s Starcrusher had wreaked when it climbed the mountain.
“It was never my throne room, Rika. When I was president, this was a meeting room with a large, circular table, designed to show that the senators who sat there with me were all equal.” He paused and gave a soft laugh. “Granted, my chair was bigger than theirs.”
“I knew it,” Rika said, bumping her hip against Tremon’s elbow.
“Damn, Rika, you’re like a boulder.”
“Sorry, I’m used to doing that with mechs. They barely notice.”
“Well, you’ll have to get used to being around more of us squishies. We’re a lot more fragile.”
“Yeah,” she sighed. “We’re trying not to call you regular people that. Sorry.”
Tremon shrugged. “I choose to consider it a term of endearment.”
“To be honest, sometimes I wonder why everyone doesn’t want to become a mech,” Rika mused. “We’re clearly superior.”
“I think you should be happy that most people don’t. Imagine if the entire Nietzschean Empire was comprised of mechanized soldiers and populace.”
Rika barked a laugh. “You make a good point. Being superior certainly is handy.”
“Speaking of people who think they’re superior,” Tremon drew the final word out, turning to look into Rika’s eyes. “You ready to talk to Oda?”
“Fuck,” she muttered. “No. No with a side of nope. That guy makes my skin crawl, and that’s not even possible.”
“He has a lot of connections.” Tremon said. “Which surprises me, because he was a nothing during the war. A minor representative from a nowhere moonlet at the front of the system.”
“I wonder how he came to be in charge of The Refuge on Faneuil?” Rika mused.
“Probably fled there before anyone else. For all I know, he set up shop there long before the final surrender.”
“Fits.”
Rika pulled a feed from the lift and saw Oda with three other people. Two of the lift’s passengers had the appearance and stance of guards, while the third, a woman, stood shoulder to shoulder with Oda.
Rika reviewed the faces she’d seen in Oda’s council chamber deep in The Refuge several weeks back, but none were a match.
“Dammit.” Tremon shook his head, a look of disgust on his face. “That’s Arla. I wonder what rock she was hiding under.”
The name didn’t mean anything to Rika, but she’d not followed politics in the least during the war. Her momentary look of confusion must have broadcast this to Tremon, because he quickly filled her in.
“She was the minister of finance in the latter half of the war. Due to the way the constitution was set up, she had nearly as much power as the war department itself. I’m honestly shocked she’s still alive.”
“What do you think she’ll want?” Rika asked.
“Control.” The word fell from Tremon’s lips like a stone. “That is a woman who craves power.”
Rika examined the pinched features of the auburn-haired woman. She seemed calm and serene, clean, and in good health. If she’d been somewhere in the system, and not with Oda, she must have been out in the open.
The AI laughed.
Rika could feel a slight hum of activity in her mind as Niki began to dig into Arla’s origins. The ability to tell when her AI was hard at work wasn’t new, but it felt more intense than it had in the past.
A minute later, the visitors were being led into the room by Shoshin. He gestured for the two guards to take up a position on the far side of the room from Kelly—who had shifted so that her gun arm was nearly in a position to fire on them—while he followed Oda and Arla as they walked toward Rika and Tremon.
“Colonel Rika,” Oda called out while he was still several meters away. “It is so very nice to see you again.”
“Welcome to Mount Genevia and the Royal Estate,
” Rika replied, not feeling above getting her own dig in.
“Royal?” Arla asked. “That seems like a bit of a leap, doesn’t it?”
“Rika.” She extended her hand. “I don’t believe we’ve ever met, but Tremon has told me all about you.”
Arla closed the distance between herself and Rika, clasping hands, though her eyes never met Rika’s. “Tremon? Oh! You mean former President Kalvin.”
Tremon nodded and extended his hand to Arla once she’d unclasped Rika’s.
She took it and gave three firm pumps. “An interesting change. What precipitated it?”
“Shame,” Tremon answered without elaboration before pulling his hand free and offering it to Oda.
Rika followed suit, and then gestured to the arrangement of sofas on her left. “Let’s sit and discuss…whatever it is you came here to discuss.”
The group moved wordlessly to the couches and settled into them; Rika and Tremon sitting on one, Oda choosing a chair, and Arla taking a seat at the end of a sofa directly across from Rika.
“What we came here to discuss,” Oda began after a few moments of contemplative silence, “is how the new government will be structured, and when things will be well-established enough for it to move from Faneuil to Belgium.”
“Why would a local planetary government move here?” Rika asked. “Are your people seeking asylum or refuge?”
A look of confusion crossed Oda’s face. “Excuse me?”
“So far as I can tell, Leader Oda, you are the governor of one of the minor planets in the Genevia System. As such, you can send a representative to the system’s assembly when it is re-formed. The system’s assembly can then send a representative to the federal assembly, at such time as one of those is re-formed.”
“Is this all related to those ridiculous claims people are making that you’re a queen now?” Arla asked, her derisive tone matching her expression.
“I think it’s just because it’s odd to have a colonel in charge,” Rika explained. “So they’re picking something more powerful.”
