Vanquished

by T. J. Land

  Courage would, of course, realize that Uther had let him have it. That fact would eat at him, plant a tiny seed of gratitude in his heart. Then, perhaps, someday, if Sessa changed his mind about him, he might yet become an asset.

  As they stepped into the chamber, Oran growled in his ear, “Any tricks, Uther, and I’ll devour you.”

  “Be quiet, mutt,” snapped Sesserine.

  A sharp, angry cry reverberated throughout the room, making them jump.

  “Uther! What is the meaning of this?” Courage bellowed.

  Uther looked over Courage’s shoulder.

  In the center of the chamber was a podium. That was as it should be.

  Upon the podium was a glass box. That was as it should be.

  Inside the glass box was… nothing.

  The gem was gone.

  That was not as it should be.

  “We’ve been deceived!” snarled Oran.

  Courage’s face was stormy. “Uther, where is the gem?”

  Stolen? Uther thought, his mind racing wildly. Impossible. No one knew where it was hidden, no one could enter the labyrinth except myself and…

  From behind him, there came a very soft little laugh.

  Turning to Sesserine, his jaw slack, he said, “How?”

  “Quite easily, actually. I designed the labyrinth, after all. There are a dozen secret ways in and out of it.”

  Sesserine’s expression wasn’t even smug – just cheerful.

  Uther had never been so proud of anyone in his life.

  “Why?” he asked, folding his arms and trying not to grin.

  Sesserine shrugged. “Eh. We had a fight last year. I was feeling petty. I didn’t plan to use it. Just wanted to see the look on your face.”

  The grin could no longer be held back. It spread across Uther’s face like spilled wine. “And does that look please you?”

  Assessing him, Sesserine’s cheeks went pink. “Yes. It does. I’ve… missed seeing you smile.”

  “What the hell’s going on?” said Courage, clearly bewildered.

  Sesserine snapped his fingers.

  Courage disappeared.

  “Oh, you rude thing,” Uther tutted. “Where did you send him?”

  “A swamp. Dirty, but not dangerous,” said Sesserine, then swallowed, shifting from foot to foot. “Should – should I bring him back?”

  Shaking his head, Uther crossed the floor to where Sesserine stood. “Not necessary. He was an amusing distraction, that’s all. I’m done with him.”

  “And I, Sessa?” asked Oran, his voice muted and forlorn. “I suppose you’re done with me? Where shall I be sent?”

  With a look that was half apologetic and half tender, Sesserine replied, “You’re sweet, puppy. You deserve better than the likes of me.”

  “You deserve better than the likes of your emperor,” Uther added. “You don’t like me, Oran; I understand that. I’m not a likeable man. But I am a better man than that ancient, corrupt pedophile. I can’t say that I’m going to create a perfect world. I can say that I’m trying to create a slightly kinder one. And I have a resistance to rebuild. There’s a place for you, if you want it.”

  Oran smiled mirthlessly. “‘Join me and we can rule together’, eh?”

  “Ha! You’ll be lucky. I did join him and do you think the bastard ever listens to me?” snorted Sesserine.

  Plucking Sesserine’s hand and enfolding it in his own, Uther said, “Perhaps I have lost my way, if my wisest advisor and ally has found his patience tested.”

  “Could you please finish attending to me before you start working on your strange relationship?” Oran huffed. “I’d like to be transported to wherever you’ve sent Sir Courage. Regardless of your pretty words, Uther, or your pretty face, Sessa, I’m not one to abandon a friend. I will… consider what you have said.”

  Uther nodded. “Fair enough. Give my regards to the boy. Tell him we’ll meet again soon.”

  Oran gave Sesserine one last, longing look before he disappeared with a snap of Sesserine’s fingers.

  Sighing heavily, Sesserine said, “Poor thing. I do hope he works out what he wants. By the way, don’t think it’s escaped my notice that you’re sucking up to me because I’ve got my hands on your gem and you don’t know where I’ve put it.”

  “I have much to do to win back your trust. Keep the gem. What else can I give you? A promotion? The next castle we steal?”

  Touching his face, Sesserine said, “I don’t want to be given things, Uther. I want a chance to earn them. I have ideas, you know. Ideas about things we can do to grow our support base and strengthen our movement. We can’t let an idiot like Courage endanger everything we’ve worked for again. So I want you to try and include me more often in your scheming.”

  Uther leant into his hand. “It’s been difficult for you, hasn’t it – having to deal with me. My moods and my pride.”

  “I knew exactly what you were when I first came to your cause and your bed, and I’d not have you any other way. But – yes. To have you as both a lover and a political ally hasn’t always worked well. There’s merit in your idea of recruiting Courage; or, if not Courage, then someone else. A handful of new advisors and strategists, to broaden our vision and keep us from one another’s throats.”

  “I see the logic. If that’s your advice, I’ll heed it. You pick five or six- …”

  “No. I’ll pick three, you pick three. Those six will then vote on who should be added to our council going forward.”

  Nodding, Uther said, “Very well. Where should we nurture our restructured revolution, now that the fortress is gone?”

  Sesserine rubbed his chin. “The fortress had advantages. It allowed us to develop our plans in relative safety. But hiding in it cut us off from the people we hope to liberate.”

  “The people? The people are treacherous and cruel. You know this. Your own village stoned you for your uncommon skin. My village tried to hand me over to the emperor when I was twelve, just for asking questions.”

  “Yes. I’ll never forget what they did to us. But I’ve realized that we can’t do this without them. The emperor’s only a man; his power is derived from the loyalty of simple folk like Oran. Winning their hearts is half the battle. So let us choose some small town as our next headquarters. We’ll work from the shadows, building a network of rebels and malcontents. It’ll work, Uther.”

  He frowned. “I don’t like it. But – alright. We’ll try. What about Dryville?”

  “I was thinking of Sardanton. It’s far enough from the capital to allow us to work in secrecy for a few years,” said Sesserine, then coughed delicately. “It may also be where I hid the gem. And I may have already started cultivating a small network in my spare time.”

  Uther laughed and dipped Sesserine halfway to the floor. “By all the gods, how I’ve underestimated you. Please overthrow me if I ever do it again.”

  “Oh, I might just do that anyway,” said Sesserine, nipping his lips. “Getting under your skin is an irresistible temptation sometimes.”

  Shivering, Uther forced his tongue into his mouth, just the way he knew he liked it. With a little hop, Sesserine had his legs wrapped around his waist and his fingers deep in his hair.

  “When it’s done – when we’ve won – I’m going to carry you onto the emperor’s throne and make his whole court watch as I take you,” Uther growled.

  With a delirious giggle, Sesserine said, “I’m going to compose a new national anthem with a chorus dedicated to your arse.”

  “I’ll put your face on the money,” Uther retaliated as he pulled off his clothes. “And your cock on the flag.”

  “God, my love, we really are the worst possible people to be charged with fixing a country, aren’t we?”

  “Yes, darling, we are. But it’s not like anyone else is going to do it.”

  The end

  If you liked this story, you might like That Man Has the Heart of a Machine (But His Bum is Nice and Squishy):

  http
s://www.amazon.com/dp/B07LC1LP6J

  Extract below:

  Osiris Vanguard was a busy man.

  You didn’t become the most in-demand bounty hunter in the solar system by dicking around, after all. People liked to romanticise what Osiris did for a living but it was a job like any other, complete with deadlines, commitments, trains to catch, long boring calls with clients, and the occasional assassin waiting for him in his hotel room. You had to stay sharp. You had to deal with everything that came your way quickly and efficiency.

  That included getting your rocks off.

  When Osiris Vanguard felt the urge, he checked his calendar, marked out when he next had a free thirty minutes, then called up whichever reputable drone bordello was nearest. Sexbots didn’t have much in the way of conversation but they were clean and the algorithms told them exactly how to get each customer off as quickly as possible. That was all that mattered as far as Osiris was concerned.

  Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes at most to empty out his balls and get back to work. That was efficiency. That was professionalism. Sex was just a job, like any other; just something you got done.

  So why in the hell couldn’t Bobby just get it done and stop whining about it?

  “Anyway, to cut a long story short, I woke up humping the pillow like a spotty teenager,” Bobby imparted, leaning on the back of Osiris’s chair as Osiris gently piloted the Golden Goose into the landing bay. “I swear, Ozzy, if I don’t find someone to cuddle my poor blue marbles before long they’ll go supernova on me.”

  “Whores or masturbation,” Osiris intoned, carefully checking the screen in front of him. Ganymede was one of the busiest ports in the solar system and the last time they’d been here the Goose’s hull had sustained a nasty dent.

  “Whores cost money, arsehole. Ain’t got none of that. Not since you decided to go all chivalrous on that miserable old crone who hired us to find her brat. Four days, Oz, four days we spent hunting that little shit down and dragging him home for a spanking. Then what do you do? You decide not to accept any payment just because he started whining about being kidnapped and you’re a sucker for a sob story. You twat.”

  “I gave you ten credits out of my own pocket to make up for that.”

  “Yeah. You did. And I had to spend them on new pants, seeing as how half my clothes have holes in them thanks to all the gunfights you keep dragging me into.”

  Osiris snorted. “You haven’t been shot once in all the time you’ve been working for me.”

  “With you.”

  “For me. And the reason your clothes fall apart so quickly is because you never buy anything practical to wear: you buy cheap flimsy fabric that looks like you stole it off a circus tent and then go crawling around the ship’s engine room in it.”

  Sniffing, Bobby said, “I like to look pretty, shithead.”

  “Just jerk off if you really can’t afford to visit a brothel. Whatever it takes to get you to stop complaining about your balls.”

  Bobby clucked his tongue and leaned over to rap on the nearest wall, producing a tinny echo. “Jerk off, he says. Jerk off in here, on this rustbucket, where the walls are thinner than your sense of humour? Not bloody likely.”

  “If you think I haven’t already grown accustomed to weird noises coming out of your quarters…weird smells, too…”

  Bobby smacked the back of Osiris’s head. “Shut your mouth. I said I was sorry about that curry.”

  “I was actually referring to your scented candle collection.”

  “They’re therapeutic. You know I’ve got anxiety.”

  “Right, but if you’re serious about getting someone to ‘cuddle your marbles’, you might want to try a form of therapy that doesn’t make your bedroom smell like grapefruit and lemons.”

  “The doctor said citrus scents reduce stress the best.”

  “She’s not a doctor, Bobby. She’s a ninety-year-old junkie who lives in a tent and calls herself ‘the oracle’. Not a reliable source of medical advice.”

  As he spoke, Osiris glanced through the nearest porthole to the city below them. They were only here for two days, enough time to refuel and purchase supplies for the long trip to Jupiter, where they’d be tracking down a new mark. A terrorist. Apparently, he’d blown up a satellite. Or stolen a satellite. Whatever. Osiris couldn’t care less. Whether or not he deserved to be got, he was worth thirty million dollars so got he would be. That ought to shut Bobby up for a while. He could buy himself a whore, along with some more gin and candles with which to decorate his quarters.

  Osiris, of course, would save his money. It was all he ever did. Except when he needed new weapons.

  And as it so happened, currently he did. His best laser pistol hadn’t survived their last hunt. Hardly surprising; it had been almost as old as he was. As luck would have it, there was a reliable place nearby where he could pick up a replacement. Actually – he checked the sky – they’d probably still be open. He could go there now, if he hurried. There wasn’t any urgent rush, but he hated wandering around town unarmed.

  “Look, can you handle the paperwork?” he asked Bobby. “I need to...”

  “No,” said Bobby. “Sod that. You’re handling the paperwork. I’m gonna check out the engines real quick. Then both of us are going to Madame Marge’s to stick some real food in our faces. C’mon, Ozzy, it’s been eight weeks since either of us last ate an actual vegetable. Let’s get fed, get set up in a semi-decent hotel, and we’ll deal with the chores tomorrow morning.”

  Indecisive, Osiris scratched at the stubble on his chin.

  Folding his arms, Bobby added, “Also, not to point too fine a point on it, but you smell like a dead badger. Either we get you cleaned up sharpish or I quit.”

  Bobby threatened to quit on a daily basis. Still, he had a point.

  “Fine.”

  0

  All the waiters in Marge’s Diner were vaguely dog-shaped drones, but all the vegetables were one hundred percent authentic, grown in the garden just outside the restaurant, both of which hovered ten feet above the unnaturally clear water of the city’s bisecting river. The filtering drones swimming through said water emitted a soft purring sound as they removed every particle of pollution that might have made it unsafe to drink.

  Osiris, who’d grown up in a town where you were lucky if the only thing you found in the well was a dead bird, liked to watch them work. It was one of the reasons he and Bobby came here so often.

  The other being that Bobby was a slut for carrots.

  “Ooh, fuck,” he moaned obscenely, stuffing another forkful into his mouth. “That’s incredible. Marge is a genius. Hear that, Marge? You’re a genius. Let’s get married. I’ll build you a castle on Jupiter.”

  “You’d be an alcoholic in a month and in your grave in a year,” she retorted as she bustled past. “Osiris, dear, how are you?”

  Sipping his rum, he gave her a polite nod. “I’m fine, Marge.”

  “How’s work?”

  “It’s been fine.”

  After waiting a moment for elaboration that never came, she patted his hand and said, “I’ll get you some more string beans.”

  As she scuttled off, Bobby kicked him under the table. “Anyone ever told you that your polite conversation is absolutely crap?”

  “Yeah. My ex-wife. Everyone I’ve ever dated. My mother. Both brothers. And you, incessantly.”

  Bobby chewed and swallowed another mouthful of carrots. “Well, I mean…you are crap. But you have gotten a bit better since I first met you. Christ, back then you came off like a veritable sociopath. Now you just come off as a sad antisocial grump.”

  Osiris sipped his rum. “You do know that I once strangled a Martian super soldier with my bare hands?”

  “After I ran him over with a truck for you.”

  “Granted. But tell me this; don't you ever worry that one day I’ll get sick of your nonsense and just murder you? Then dump your corpse in my ship’s biofuel processor and snatch up some other half-comp
etent mechanic who doesn’t mouth off so much?”

  “Not really,” said Bobby, popping the last carrot in his mouth. “Number one, the Goose is an old lady and I’m one of maybe three people in the galaxy who can keep her life support systems going. Two, who else is going to put up with the sight of you sculpting your Rasputin beard with a creepily big knife at the breakfast table every morning? Three, you’d miss me and you know it.”

  Osiris made a deliberately ambiguous noise. “I’m going to pick up a new pistol tomorrow. Anything you need?”

  “Nothing comes to mind.”

  “What about…”

  “No.”

  “Bobby.”

  “I don’t want enhancers, Ozzy. You know I don’t like those things.”

  Bobby’s dislike was, in Osiris’s opinion, totally irrational. Enhancers were the modern bounty hunter’s best friend. One nonaddictive pill and your reflexes, strength, and mental agility all got a boost that would last five hours. More importantly, they allowed your body to heal twice as fast as normal. Osiris had been using them for fifteen years. Admittedly, his extreme physical fitness and innate talent for combat meant that the enhancers only improved his overall performance level by five percent or so, but in this business, five percent could be the difference between life and death.

  Bobby was different. Moderately fit at best, no talent to speak of. Enhancers would probably give him a twenty-five percent boost.

  “I really think you should try them.”

  “I have tried them. They give me headaches.”

  Headaches were Bobby’s go-to excuse for getting out of doing things Osiris wanted him to do and Osiris knew better than to press the matter. “Fine. I’ll buy you new armour.”

  “And cover up my glorious body? You do realize that my looks are the reason we get so much work.”

  “I’m reasonably certain it’s got more to do with my efficiency, professionalism, unparalleled martial prowess, military training…”