by M. D. Cooper
It was as though she were the worst possible combination of Jace and Lara put together into one person.
Days like this, I hate you, father. Well, hate you more, at least.
She was trying to build a better future for her people, but how was that even possible when she lived in such a cesspool—one filled with piranhas? Her father had been like the others, a despicable Lord of the Canton, who abused his people and took what he wished from them.
Somehow—through a process Armis had never fully fathomed—she had gained a different worldview. One where she had come to believe it was her place to protect and guide her people.
It was slow, arduous work, elevating her canton while taking care not to make it appear too weak or too juicy a target for the others. She also had to be cautious of how much her canton was viewed as a safe haven by the people of Persia.
If Canton Draus shared borders with the others, she would surely see hordes of refugees pour in each year. As it was, even though Draus was a canton spread across a vast archipelago of islands, they still saw hundreds of people attempt daring ocean crossings each year.
“Glad to see that you survived the council session,” Tal, her aide, said after a moment of silence. “I just about puked when they carried Lord Wills out.”
“You and me both,” Armis replied. “Katrina is a brutal monster.”
“She’s in pain,” Tal said. “So much pain. Can’t you see it in her eyes?”
Armis shrugged. “I do, but that doesn’t matter.” She opened her mouth to say more, but decided not to. Her scans showed no listening devices in the lift—not any more, at least—but Katrina possessed technology far beyond theirs. It was possible that she could be listening to them even now.
They exited the lift a moment later and walked down a short hall to shuttle pad A7. Armis forced herself to walk slowly, though she felt as though a target was on her back the whole way.
In the distance, smoke still rose from the location of Katrina’s orbital strike, the haze drifting across the city, forming a grey film over the valley.
Once on the shuttle, Armis collapsed into one of the deep chairs and snapped her fingers for an automaton to bring her a glass of wine.
“Stars,” she whispered after she took her first drink. “I had hoped to find a true ally in Katrina; someone who would help. And we were getting so close to unseating Lara, too. Just another month, and all the pieces would have been in place.”
“Many of the assets are still in position,” Tal replied as she settled in across from Armis. “It may take a bit longer, but we can use them against Katrina.”
Armis shook her head. “No, let’s not be so hasty. She did something to Troan. Something beyond the humiliation she subjected him to.”
“Like what? She can’t have sex—from what I hear, her body is a ruin under her metal skin. She’s not controlling him that way.”
Armis chuckled. “Katrina may be a crass, murdering bitch, but she doesn’t need to resort to her womanly wiles to bend someone to her will.”
“You’re referring to the rumors about mind control?”
“Those would be the ones.”
Tal shook her head, giving Armis the same amused look of mock-worry she had used since they were kids. “That’s just conjecture.”
“We have firsthand accounts of Katrina in Lara’s presence, but Lara seemed subservient to her. Witnesses place Malorie on Farsa, too—though Katrina claims that Malorie and Jace were running their operations from Rockhall, while she was being held by Lara on Farsa—until Malorie managed to break free.”
“But you don’t believe it,” Tal prompted.
Armis shrugged. “There are discrepancies in the timeline. You’ve noted some of them.”
“Yeah, but there are other explanations,” Tal replied, grinning and waving her hands in the air. “We don’t need mystical mind control to explain it.”
Armis laughed. Tal always had a way of getting a smile out of her when she was down. “You should look at the sort of tech they had back in the Golden Age. If Katrina is a Streamer like she claims, then she might as well have ‘mystical mind control’. I watched her clear the biolock on Wills’ lightwand in seconds. That’s not something anyone here can do.”
“She could be from the AST. They have tech like that—or so I’ve heard.”
Armis raised her eyebrows. That was possible, though it changed little.
“Well, her origins aside, she’s dangerous, and we’ll have to play our cards carefully. Katrina went from being completely unknown to controlling an entire star system in under a week. That makes her the most dangerous person I know of.”
“So what’s our next move?” Tal asked.
Armis blew out a long breath. “I have no idea.”
LIES AND VERISIMILITUDE
STELLAR DATE: 01.31.8512 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Katrina’s quarters
REGION: Farsa Station, Persia, Midditerra System
Katrina hated sleeping.
Even with Korin and loyal Adders guarding her, she knew it was when she was the most vulnerable. Always having to be on guard, always having to portray this persona of absolute strength…it was harder than she thought it would be.
When she’d ‘killed’ Jace and taken Lara’s place as the ruler of Midditerra, she thought that she could actually be the ruthless ruler. That Katrina the Warlord was who she had become.
She had thought she could be OK with that.
Instead, she felt like she was covered by a sheen of oil at all times, slick and stinking.
What Katrina longed for was a true confidant. But Juasa was dead, and Troy was still missing. The only person she had that could really understand her position was Malorie.
Malorie’s braincase was near her bed; she’d not taken it back to her throne room to rejoin Jace, Lara, and Captain Hana. Katrina regarded it for a moment, wondering if reaching out to Malorie for companionship was a sign that she was losing her mind.
Katrina replied with a self-deprecating laugh.
Katrina knew why that was. Malorie’s brain wanted stimulation. However, because Katrina didn’t want the woman to have access to outside nets, or even visuals, the braincase provided faux sensory input for Malorie’s mind.
But it wasn’t enough to make her feel grounded—especially for an L0 brain like Malorie’s. It did, however, keep her from going stark raving mad.
Malorie made a derisive sound in her mind.
Katrina didn’t know why she kept talking about Juasa. She’d been trying not to; it just hurt too much. Ju had so much of her life left to live. That fateful meeting with Katrina in the bar at Bollam’s World had been the beginning of the end for her.
Malorie replied.
Katrina blurted out the question. What she really wanted was a friend. She thought Armis might have been a candidate, but she had been cold as ice in person.
How low have I sunk that I’m seeking friendship from Malorie?
Katrina wanted to scream, to rail against the universe, against Markus for being a stubborn old fool and dying on her, at Tanis for leaving her behind, at the people of the Primacy
for casting her aside, at the Sirians for destroying everything.
At her father for being a raging asshole that had murdered people on a whim and then asked what was for dinner.
I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree….
Malorie didn’t reply right away, but when she did, the words dripped with acid.
Katrina could feel Malorie fuming silently, likely considering her options. They were few: go mad, or take the offer. Suicide may have been a possibility, as well. Katrina had heard stories of braincases that had suicided.
Katrina was starting get an idea as to where this was going.
Malorie sighed.
Katrina considered granting Malorie enough network access to handle the appropriation of her new body on her own, but decided that it would be best to put that off a little bit longer.
There was trust, and then there was trust.
* * * * *
Katrina had reached out to Demy—who was not sleeping, either. Though it was because she was working on repairs to the Castigation. The engineering chief agreed to get on the case, though she did not sound overjoyed at the prospect of providing Malorie with a body once more.
After going back and forth on potential control mechanisms and kill systems to keep Malorie in check, Katrina had left Demy with the details, and finally began to drift off to sleep.
She was about to tell Jordan that whatever news she had best be worth waking her up, but then she hoped it actually wasn’t.
Let it be something stupid so I can actually sleep.
Katrina very nearly bolted upright in her bed. The Verisimilitude was a well-equipped cruiser that had evaded capture, and had not come in when the Adders loyal to Jace surrendered three days ago.
It had fled into the outer reaches of the system, leading Katrina to wonder if its first mate, a slimy man named Leon, had taken the ship and run. But if it was docked at Nesella Station, that was a horse of a different color indeed.
She pulled herself to her feet and walked into the san.
Nesella Station was the domain of a man named Kruger, one of the more powerful figures in the outer Midditerra System. He ran many of the stations that managed interstellar trade, at which the cantons operated their front businesses that sold stolen goods as though they were legitimate wares.
By mutual agreement, stations like Nesella were neutral ground, places where the cantons held no official power. They were run by the stationmasters with as little canton influence as possible, and protected by the MDF.
However, Katrina had learned from plumbing the minds of her captives that most of the ‘free stations’ were in the pocket of one or another of the canton rulers. There were a few exceptions, and the stations run by Kruger were amongst those.
Kruger was a ruthless man who ruled with an iron fist. He even had his own small ‘security fleet’, and during the recent unrest, no one had even attempted to raid his stations.
Although Kruger was not in the pocket of any canton leader, there were still those with whom he was more closely affiliated. Cantons who had special privileges on his stations.
From what Katrina had learned, Canton Kurgise was one that he was particularly close to—or maybe it was just Lady Marion that he shared a relationship with.
That the Verisimilitude would dock at Nesella was very telling. It reinforced Katrina’s resolve to annex Kurgise for the Blackadder Canton.
But first, she wanted that ship. It was easily a match for the most powerful MDF cruisers and could be a key vessel in any system defense. It would also help balance the power between the Adders and the MDF.
Once her mods had completed their cycles, Katrina left the san, grabbed her coat, pistols, and turned to eye Malorie’s case.
Katrina nodded—though Malorie could not see it.
Malorie snorted.
Katrina strode out of her quarters and nodded to Norm and Uma, who both fell in behind her.
“Where are we going, Lady Katrina?” Norm asked.
“To the Castigation, then to Nesella Station, where the Verisimilitude has docked.”
“Cocky fuckers.” Uma’s low voice was laced with malice. “Always thought they were such hot shit.”
“That’s cause they are,” Norm replied. “Lady Katrina, should I reach out to Korin for your full guard?”
“Not everyone. We need to maintain a presence here on Farsa. But at least a hundred.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Katrina considered that she would do well to win over more of the MDF forces on Farsa. They had proven harder to work with than the Adders—the pirates just wanted to be on the winning side and get paid. Many of the MDF personnel believed in law, order. They liked the respect that Lara had garnered for their forces.
Many viewed Katrina as a blight, though currently one that they would have to stomach. So long as the Adders and the MD
F were balanced, at least.
Her request for more ships from the other cantons to bolster the MDF would throw off that balance, the implications of which had been weighing on her mind.
It was one of the reasons that she was so eager to get her hands on the Verisimilitude. It also meant that she needed to involve the MDF in its capture.
And find something to offer Kruger. Gaining him as an ally in the midst of this would be an important step. One that would be necessary if she did indeed need to move on Lady Marion of Canton Kurgise.
Maybe she could offer Kruger the woman’s canton…
First she had to make Malorie less of a burden.
Demy snorted.
Katrina bit back a harsh response. Not knowing the details of the thousands of surrounding systems was a never-ending pain in the ass, but it wasn’t Demy’s fault that she had no idea what significance Crossbar held.
Luckily, her silence prompted Demy to fill in the details.
