The Super Power Saga (Book 3): Fear the Empire

by Jaron Lee Knuth

  Replica was visibly wounded by Mermaid's words. “You're right. But maybe all that blood is weighing me down. You know? Maybe I miss doing heroic things. Maybe I...”

  Mermaid watched Replica's words drift away and saw the normally cocky girl become a shell of her former self. She reached out and grabbed onto Replica's shoulders, squeezing them with assurance.

  “Listen to me. I know what you're going through. I know how you feel. I feel it too. Like everything we built is being taken away, piece by piece. But we need to hold onto what we can. The American Republic is still worth fighting for. We appease the Zharkovs and they turn a blind eye. That's always been the plan.”

  Replica yanked her shoulders free. “The plan sucks.”

  “The plan is all we have.”

  “The plan is failing! We're losing heroes in a war that has nothing to do with us, you're barely able to keep our citizens safe, and I'm hunting down pregnant teenagers. We're a mockery of what we wanted to be. The Zharkovs aren't ignoring us. They're using us. We're just shields of flesh and bone that they can protect their borders with.”

  “You can't start with this anti-war crap again!”

  “Crap? It isn't crap, Mermaid. It's the truth. I saw it happening with my own two eyes. That war is going to fail. The Zharkovs are going to lose. But only after they kill every last one of us trying to win.”

  “Do you have any idea what I had to sacrifice to keep you alive after you ranted on the internet about the war? Do you have any idea how lucky you are to be standing here?”

  “Sacrifice? You don't know what sacrifice is. The heroes over in the Fatherlands, fighting those robotic horrors... they know what sacrifice is.”

  Mermaid shoved past Replica and walked toward the door. “Fine, honey. You're a fantastic person, everyone appreciates what you did in the war, and I'm the clueless politician in her ivory tower who has no idea about the struggles of the common man. Have we all settled into our nice, easy to digest archetypes for you? Is everything simple and clear for you to understand? None of that confusing moral gray area for you to dodge your way through? I'm glad you can sleep easier at night, Replica. But some of us have work to do.”

  She didn't wait for a reaction before walking out the door and into the hallway that led toward the transport tubes. As her feet slapped against the cold, white metal of Power Tower, her stomach sank. Mermaid may have gotten in the last word, but Replica's voice was still rattling around in her mind. The young girl was echoing everything that Mermaid had been pushing down, trying not to let creep up into her mind. All those years spent doing what she thought was the right thing in the long run, and now she was standing at the end of the long run, looking back and seeing only the compromises and failures, broken ideals and pointless deaths.

  She stopped in the hallway and looked down at the cracked skin of her palms. The age lines that crisscrossed them were like scars from every year she had suffered through. At her age, it was easy for life to feel like it was no longer a vast open space that was full of possibilities. It was easy to think all her choices had been made, and she was now just living out the program she had set up. But that kind of foolishness was for the young. She was too old, too wise for any of that. She knew there was still time to make choices, still time to affect the outcome. There was still time for her to be the superhero she knew she was.

  10

  ZANA

  Domina Singh set one of her furry paws on Zana's forehead and gently pushed her back onto the bed of straw.

  “Just lie back and try to relax.”

  The small hut was full of animal hybrid women, and all of them were pregnant. Some of them chanted to themselves in a language Zana was pretty sure they were making up. Others were inhaling steam out of cups, holding it in their lungs and then exhaling. Others simply stared at her with an intensity that made her feel very uncomfortable.

  “Do they have to be here?”

  Singh smiled and purred as she said, “They begged me to allow them in the hut with you.”

  “Why?”

  “Zana, I do believe you are underestimating the impact you have had on our subjects. Especially the women.”

  Zana eyed the other women in the hut and asked, “What kind of impact?”

  “You are powerful, Zana. More powerful than anyone in Therian.”

  “So they look up to me because I'm a Zharkov.”

  Singh smiled again as if she were amused by Zana's ignorance. “They look up to you because you are a woman.”

  Zana stared back at her for a moment, trying to let those words sink in. “What does that have to do with anything? Who cares if I'm a woman?”

  “And the fact that you don't understand why that's important is both honorable and a bit scary to me.”

  Zana glanced around at the pregnant women and then down at her own belly. “Oh. So the fact that I might have a baby in me somehow makes me special?”

  Singh shook her head, still wearing that same bemused smile. “Of course. That's part of being a woman. But I think we both know that there are many more parts as well. And they are all important.”

  Zana glanced at the floor, considering what Singh was saying, but when she didn't reply, the lioness-woman continued.

  “The women of Therian are... happy to see someone like you that is strong... fearless. A female that can fight is rare enough, but one that could best even the greatest of our warriors? That is something very special indeed.”

  Zana couldn't deny that it was nice to hear someone compliment her on something other than her breeding. She definitely did not expect the Domina to be the one to make her feel good about being a warrior. But then she glanced around at the pregnant bellies that surrounded her and remembered her place.

  “Yet here I am. Just like them. Laying on a bed of straw, waiting to find out if your son put a baby in me. I'm no different than any other woman in Therian. Or the Empire.”

  Singh leaned in close and wrapped her paw around Zana's arm. “Don't you see? That's why they feel akin to you. You are just like them. Yet better. Stronger. They find you... inspiring.”

  Zana shook her head, feigning humility when deep down, her words were touching that fire that burned inside of her ever since she was a child. It was the fire that was stoked every time her brother was being prepared for his eventual seat on the throne. Every time her father told Yuri that he would eventually become the Guardian of the East, once she was married off to another domain. Every time her mother would scold her for wearing her armor to events instead of a dress. Every time someone felt the need to tell her how to be a woman, the fire inside of her burned just a little brighter. And now, with Singh's words, she felt the heat from those flames again.

  The flap on the side of the hut flew open and a short woman stepped inside. When the flap shut behind her, and the dim light from the candles lit her face, Zana could see that she was a turtle-hybrid. Her face was wrinkled and cracked, her skin worn and aged. One eye was milky white with blindness, but the other was opened wide, seemingly larger than the other. A few wisps of hair were collected into a single braid that hung from the side of her head, woven around beads, feathers, and what appeared to be the foot of a chicken.

  The single eye beamed at Zana as the woman smacked her lips and said, “This is her? The Zharkov girl?”

  Singh smiled. “Yes. This is Zana.”

  The woman let out a single puff of air as if she wasn't impressed by what she saw. She hobbled over to where Zana was laying, crouched down next to her, and stretched out a single green-skinned hand that latched onto Zana's belly. Her giant eye closed, but her blind eye stayed open as the woman's fingers clawed into Zana's skin. Just when Zana was about to knock her hand away, the woman stood back up.

  She said nothing, but hobbled around the room, stepping around the pregnant women as if they were misplaced furniture. She walked over to a small pot that sat over the fire and scooped out some of the liquid that bubbled inside with a large ladle. She took a sip, th
en spit it onto the ground. The liquid sizzled on the dirt floor and the woman dropped to her hands and knees, inspecting the spittle with her giant eye. Without looking away, she grabbed ash from the fire and tossed it onto the sizzling spit. Her eye roamed around the shape of the spit and ash, glancing at it from different angles. When she was satisfied by what she had seen, she climbed back up to her feet, and hobbled back across the room. She dug through different items on a shelf until she produced a small black rock and brought it back over to Zana.

  “What's that?”

  The woman did not reply, instead she clutched onto Zana's belly again and smeared the rock around her torso. The rock left a black line behind it, and the woman used this to draw different symbols on her belly.

  “I know you were knocked back to the dark ages by that supervillain, but is this what qualifies for a medical exam in Therian?”

  The old woman shushed her with a finger to her lips, then placed both of her green palms on Zana's belly. Her large eye shut, and again the blind eye remained open. The other women in the room stopped what they were doing, and a silence fell over everyone.

  The old woman chanted, “Oooom bah do sah rakka bah damma.”

  The other women in the room repeated, “Oooom bah do sah rakka bah damma.”

  This continued for a while, with the words echoing back and forth between the pregnant women and the turtle shaman. The warmth of the hut, combined with the smells of different herbs and leaves burning around the room, lulled Zana into a trance. Her body relaxed, her muscles melting into the straw bed. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she felt herself folding inward, losing herself in the chants that echoed between her ears. She was only pulled back into the present when she felt cold liquid pour over her belly. When she looked down, she saw a thick, dark liquid dripping from her sides, mixing with the black ash symbols. It only took her a few seconds to realize the old woman had poured blood on her from the bucket she was setting on the floor next to her shelf. The old woman returned to Zana's side and pressed her palms into her belly. Her eyes closed and her lips moved, whispering words that were covered by the pregnant women's chanting. Suddenly one of her hands shot into the air, reaching for the sky. The chanting came to a halt.

  The old woman's body spasmed until she shouted into the air, “Life!”

  The entire room roared, some women breaking down into weeping tears. Domina Singh rushed to Zana's shoulder and wrapped her furry arms around Zana's sweaty, blood covered body.

  “I'm so proud. Proud of you, my dear, and proud of my grandchild inside of you.”

  Zana reached down and held her belly, wondering how accurate the old woman's shaman acts could be. The idea of a baby suddenly felt all to real, and she became hyper-aware of the possibility of life growing inside of her.

  “There are many outside, waiting to hear this news,” Singh purred, motioning toward the flapped entrance of the hut.

  Zana slowly crawled to her feet, and Singh wrapped a white robe around her to cover her bloodstained belly. Zana stepped toward the flap and pushed it open. When she looked out, she saw small fires burning all across the surrounding hillsides. They dotted the night like giant stars, but in their glow she could barely make out moving figures, as if the entire domain were gathered around.

  The clanking of armor turned her attention to her right, and she saw a lizard-woman march up next to her. The hybrid warrior took a knee and bowed her head.

  “I recognize you,” Zana said, trying to place where she had seen the woman before.

  “My name is Tila.” A thin lizard tongue flicked out from between her lips, lashing at the air. “I am a member of the Devil Legion.”

  Zana smiled. “You fight with a spear.”

  The warrior glanced up at her as if she were surprised Zana had recognized her. “That is correct, my liege. You dispatched me with a flat palm to the chest.”

  “You fought well.” Zana held out her hand and pulled the woman to her feet. “Why are you here?”

  “The same reason as everyone else. The Devil Legion is here for you. The... women are, that is. We await word of your pregnancy, just like all the women of the domain.”

  “Only the women?”

  “All the soldiers await word, my liege. But the women are more... personally involved.”

  Zana took a deep breath in through her nose. “It seems I am with child.”

  Singh stepped out from the hut and stood by Zana's side.

  The warrior's tiny black eyes grew large, darting back and forth between the two women. “So... we are going to war?”

  Zana glanced up at Singh, who smiled and gave a single nod.

  “Gather our forces. We have no time to lose.”

  Zana looked into the same night sky that covered half the Empire and said, “And hurry. My family needs us.”

  11

  ESMERALDA

  Rocketing across the Pacific Ocean in a giant battle-suit was exhilarating. It made her understand, for a brief moment, why the drooling masses could be swept up by the idea of having super powers. Looking down on the world from a bird's-eye view. Pretending you're somehow better than everyone else. It was enticing.

  Esmeralda had never really been the “hands on” type. She preferred the safety of her computer screen, a glass of chardonnay in one hand and the keyboard under the other. She hacked databases and researched blueprints, guiding Hector and Miguel with swift, strategic accuracy. She was the brain and they were the fists. But they were gone. She was all that was left. She needed to be everything.

  When she neared Neo-Nippon, drones surrounded her, locking onto her heat signature and aiming multiple weapons at her. She chuckled to herself, knowing she could switch on her stealth mode, release the decoy flares, and decimate every one of them within seconds, disappearing into the clouds. And that was only if she was feeling too lazy to hack them all, reverse their targeting, and turn them against each other.

  A man's voice came over the speakers in her helmet, speaking with authority. “Mech Wolf. You are cleared to enter Portal 17. Please follow your security guides and do not deviate from your flight path.”

  Mech Wolf. She flinched at the name. She had forgotten to change the battle-suit's designation. It was a clumsy name, one she had filled out only as a placeholder while she worked on it. But it was no matter. She was beyond caring about branding anymore. There were more important things to focus on.

  The jet propulsion unit on her back slowed her landing on the portal structure built into the side of the force field. It was a framework that could open a small entryway in the impenetrable dome that covered the domain, a gateway meant for releasing Neo-Nipponese military vehicles. She landed hard on the runway that led to the gate, and the robotic soldiers that manned the entrance motioned her forward. Warning lights spun in circles as she neared the gate, and large cannons came to life, pointing in every direction, awaiting the possibility of an attempted breach. When the force field lowered, the robots gave her the signal, and her jets propelled her forward, into the domain of Neo-Nippon.

  She had seen the documentaries, the commercials, and propaganda revealing the state-of-the-art lifestyle that the Neo-Nipponese citizens enjoyed, but nothing could have truly prepared her for the innovation in their world. There was no sign they had suffered an attack during the Super Power War. Instead, it looked as though they had launched themselves into the future. Everything within the domain was at least ten years ahead of the rest of the world. Hyper-loop trains sped the people across the urban landscape that covered the island. Every surface was emblazoned with digital screens that doubled as solar energy receivers. Vertical gardens fed the citizens, removing the need for Gaia's crops. Every person she passed looked healthy and fit, with at least one robot following them to serve their every need.

  It was no wonder they hadn't hesitated breaking away from the Empire. If that was what they had to offer their own people, she had certainly chosen the rightful heir to the throne. The Zharkovian brand
of communism couldn't hold a candle to the bright flame of progression that was Neo-Nippon.

  The security drones led her toward Oshiro Palace, the grand castle-like tower that stood at the center of the island. It looked like a cross between a fairy-tale and an advanced alien civilization. It was beautiful in its merging of technology and artistry, both pragmatic and decorative.

  A man walked out from the front gate, the same man who had answered the video conference call, and peered up at her as she hovered in front of the palace. He gave her a slight wave of his hand, and she lowered the battle-suit onto the paved walkway. The security drones stayed in place, no longer following her, but staying at the ready.

  “Greetings, Mrs. Majesty. Emperor Oshiro is awaiting your arrival in the grand hall.”

  The front of her battle-suit opened up, releasing pressurized air as it did, and lowering her body gently onto the ground with mechanical arms. She stepped away from the machine, brushed off her business suit, and smiled at the man.

  “Lead the way.”

  He gave the battle-suit a nervous look as it sealed back up and she walked away, leaving it where it stood. He eventually led her into the palace, through chamber after chamber of technological marvels, until they entered a long hall, most likely used for large parties. The Emperor stood near one of the gigantic windows, staring out over the city. Even with his long robes with squared off shoulders that pointed out to the sides in an impossibly large fashion, he still appeared quite small compared to the size of the room.

  As Esmeralda was led toward him, he did not turn around to greet her, but instead of waiting for the man to announce her arrival, she stepped forward.

  “Thank you for meeting with me, your royal highness. I'm glad you have chosen to hear my ideas.”