Pursuers In The Deep [7.5]

This chapter contains graphic sexual contenT and references to suicide.

A horrific wail escaped the gurgling throat of a mangled man twitching on the steel floor.

Her ears barely heard it, no matter how loud he screamed, she simply did not receive something audible from it. Instead, the vibrations of the sound on the bio-sensors in her body let her know the direction in which the sounds came from. This was useless: everyone was screaming, and so there was sound everywhere.

It would be more useful in the water, where she wasn’t.

She was in the middle of a metallic hall. Her claws were caked in gore burned black.

Rendered fat helped her digits slide to retain some motion, no time to clean off the crud.

Two bodies cast aside in two brutal swings– in a snap she charged the remaining man–

Her jaws closed on the shooting arm of a guard devouring the limb gun and all.

Separated processing centers received six different views of his shock-stunned body — and past it!

Movement–!

Two of her eyes spotted a machine gun pod crawling across the ceiling over the corpse.

With a flick of her tail, she instantly sent a spike flying at the speed of cannon fire.

Piercing the gun pod and spearing it against the rail it was attached to, ending the threat immediately.

A second pod followed on the same rail, but it was stuck behind the first one and fell silent.

She charged out of the hall and onto the hangar, away from the possibility of their gunfire.

Heck! That was close! I coulda been churned up bad! How many more of these are there?

She dimly wondered why the automated defenses hadn’t been spun up sooner.

But the tactics of station-dwellers were not her forte. She was a Hunter; she simply hunted.

Hunter III of the Third Sphere.

This was the name given to her by a leader of their kind: Arbitrator II of the First Sphere.

She never questioned it. She simply was who she was. She was an Omenseer.

Omenseers were the guides to the eldritch heavens and alien hells of the Ocean.

To take into the light those station-dwellers who were useful and worthy and willing to part with treasure.

That was all she needed to know about herself; and all anyone needed to know about her.

Her role was not to strategize. Norn did that– or whoever she worked for. She had no idea what the enemy’s plan was: she assumed the defenders were just stupid. And that was why she was tearing through them so easily. Anything more complicated than that was not her business. Ship-dwellers, station-dwellers, fake humans, whatever whoever called them– Hunter III knew they could be tough. Norn was absolutely terrifying for example.

These Ajillo humans were not very tough. Maybe they just weren’t ready to fight.

Expecting to kill more in the arrival gate, Hunter III was surprised to find that the red carpet and chute that Norn had come through was already secured. There were a few bodies, cleanly killed with one bullet through the brain, and Norn’s security detail stood guard in front of the entry chute, equipped with full power rifles that had made some dents in the steel walls. Five men stood in attention and saluted when Hunter III appeared as if she was their boss but said nothing to her. These same men had watched her sneak around and said nothing then too.

Now though, they did make signs using electric torches, predetermined signs.

They signaled that Norn had taken the control center. Everything was suddenly over.

Hunter III stared at the lights, unmoving, for the first time not thinking about the next jump, charge, slice, bite, or shot; for the first time finding herself with no further hostile targets and no further violence to commit.

Her brains were flooded with intense emotions.

Her whole reptilian-insectoid body vibrated with the weight of adrenaline and anxiety.

She had been killing, non-stop, target to target; killing and eating and tearing skin from meat and meat from skin to the point she could barely taste what was going through her, could barely feel what was entering her body and melding into it and burning in it for energy to fight on. For the first time she settled on the feeling of her sticky hot claws coated in God knows how much filth, barely able to flex one digit from the next to the point she had been swinging the claws as one thick cutting edge. She felt the pain of dozens of bullet holes barely patched by her “biopower.” Her body felt suddenly like a rubbery sheathe that she was buried in, hyperventilating for free air.

When her six visual sensors closed her mind staggered; she saw the pink and brown rubbery meat around “her” “own” “body.” Such a thing could not be said to exist, not in the middle of a transformation and yet, she was seeing that disturbing sight as if entombed in this form rather than in control and in synchronicity with it.

It signaled her disassociation from the “leviform” body her “biopower” had built.

Even if she wanted to, at this point, she probably couldn’t fight any more for a while.

Hunter III sat down on her rump, tail curled around her, and let the shaking go through her.

She had not hunted in what was maybe closer to months but felt like even years before now.

And it was getting to her mind, her heart. She was not a machine or a monster.

In fact, if you asked Arbitrator II, she would say Hunter III was the only “real” human here.

I let myself get too soft. I gotta toughen up again. It’s only gonna get crazier from now on I think.

She looked up at the men guarding the deployment chute.

They paid her attention when she moved her head to face them but said nothing.

All of the drones communicated with her only with flashing lights.

Nothing they were saying was important anymore and Hunter III paid them no heed.

Norn taught them Hunter III couldn’t understand them without “brainpower” in this form. Leviforms had different physical senses, but all shared the ability to do omenseeing and use brainpower. Almost nobody at this station had any “brainpower” that Hunter III could tell, much less the ability to do any “omen-seeing.” Norn’s crew did not, that’s why she could manipulate them so easily. Anyone Norn did not control had an amount of brainpower or even omenseeing.

Like Adelheid. Adelheid was being manipulated in some other kind of way.

Love maybe? Hunter III did not really know this stuff too much, though she sort of felt it.

She, in some kind of way, had feelings toward Norn too. Norn was–

Norn was– strange. She was just– strange– Norn was a lot of things!

She could be scary, frustrating, generous– she gave Hunter III a lot of emotions.

Norn said she would free me from Arbitrator II. Why free me though? I’m not trapped…

It was tough to get a handle on her thoughts and feelings.

Her brains were flooding with all kinds of thoughts. Some even the Leviform’s own–

There was not much point in thinking about it further than that.

She had to prepare to leave behind the leviform. Her mind clearly couldn’t take it anymore.

Hunter III quickly ran up a mental inventory of everything that had gone into her body.

She did not understand fully what everything was. Norn could say words like lipase and glycol to her but she did not understand her own body that way. She knew there were hard things, soft things, chemicals in her stomach, fats stored in her tissues, bones sheathed in muscle, sinews and nerves connecting everything. She knew instinctively what to do with the resources of her body to make structures like bio-jets, biocannons, and other secrets locked away in her flesh.

Once she ate the fruit, everything became looser, more flexible, easier to grow and change.

That fruit was filled with the marrow of life, with the power of humanity. Or so the Omenseers said.

Her instinctive control over this power let her understand her body instinctively, like breathing and walking.

In her stomach the guard’s arm she ate sat like a big lump, undigested.

His gun was partially digested.

She had used some of the metal to make the spike she threw at the gun pod.

This was something she did so automatically that she only took stock of it now. There was a lot of yucky stuff that made up a gun, like lead and gunpowder. She would leave that behind in the leviform exuvia and not take it into her “person body,” for the sake of her health. Anything in the exuvia was wholly separate from herself.

She concentrated on establishing her body within the leviform and separating from it anything deleterious. For a moment this increased the feeling of drowning within a pile of meat, and at its height, it almost led her to panic. No amount of discipline could surmount that sudden and torturous feeling when her own body formed within the leviform and the monster she had once been started to slough off, like a relentless shower, heavy and hot droplets of flesh sliding off her face and shoulders, digging herself out of a rancid-smelling miasma of meat and blood–

Hunter III screamed as her head was fully released, dilated eyes darting frantically–

Screaming at the top of her lungs through the bubbling, sliding, shedding fat and meat–

Feeling dizzy as her body turned suddenly lighter, released from the weight, stumbling–

White long hair, skin pale enough to almost see through, a skinny and vulnerable girl staggered forward her feet leaving behind a flattened gelatinous body like a macabre costume, bleeding from the slit along the back that her body escaped through. She was scarred, pronounced spikes growing on her spine and shoulders, the stub of a tail, thick scar tissue on her wrists, all connectors into the machine of meat that lay discarded–

Her vision swam in and out as her feet slipped on the metal floor.

She saw the men move to collect her, but nevertheless she fell. The cold and stale-smelling air of the station and the slight pungency of the body she left behind all vanished along with the colors trapped dancing in its atmosphere. Everything was black, everything was numb, silent, odorless, as her mind darkened with the feeling of falling, the sound of rushing air, a final twist of motion, a sharp thud as she hit the floor– and kept falling.

Falling;

Into the Ocean once again, into the ocean surrounding them all.

A black body glided through the water, briefly breaching the surface.

Blue sky flecked purple; something distant, massive, drove a thick metal spire into the water–

Pinpricks of violet from the air lashed at her, randomly, painfully–

Driven back into the water by the pain;

Through the currents and the endless blue where there was nothing to see but the dancing microscopic bodies of the tiniest chains of living matter, undisturbed by the events unfolding above the ocean, final stronghold of life in this tortured world. Time and space and place and identity meant nothing to the water that moved by the will of systems so complex as to appear alien, mythical, connecting the past, future and present in a chain of impossible causalities no one human life could have possibly linked and truly comprehended, not in their time, not in the times to come.

On this journey that body went not knowing where or when or why it was and simply eating, growing, mating, fighting, living, never the most massive being in its food chain but quick, clever, knowing when to charge and when to retreat. Rather than a hard shell it formed supple scales and gelatinous membranes; rather than a few thick jets it had many looping fins through which it could carefully guide out the water it sucked in through its gills.

On this journey, it went. Through times, places, unknown.

Outmatched;

An enormous body, a truly gigantic, massive being that was like a mountain of meat with great roaring jets, numerous remoral pods that fired a brilliant fusillade of spikes, hundreds of sensing organs that never failed to track. A dozen upright beings with arms that expelled terrible projectiles. A great gaping maw opened that swallowed and brought an end to that life, time yet unknown, purpose never found, position remaining a mystery, somewhere, sometime, in the unnamed immensity of the water. To be eaten, digested, broken down, and part of another life.

She;

Suspended in the bowels of a great being, situated firmly in a space, but unable to move, no current, sucking in but feeling no water to move through, no sound waves to see through. Hazy colors, a hazy picture forming in her once-useless eyes of a dark writhing black-and-red place. She (she?) was not yet eaten, not yet banished back to the carbon chain at the lowest rung of creation. She was still alive, but she was alive in a different way than before–

Her skin, her bones, they were no longer stiff, as if restraints had been torn off her–

“Awaken, become aware, and see the omens. Hunter III of the Third Sphere.”

Below her a group of upright beings with slender limbs, two eyes, hair, smiling mouths, watching her.

All of them smelled like the memories that were quickly fading from her shifting brain.

Red circles around their eyes and red circles around hers as she finally began to See.

Time;

Space;

Place;

Bodies;

When the feeling of weight returned to her Hunter III slowly awoke.

Laying in a soft bed, hazy eyes wandering, she was–

In the Antenora’s infirmary.

There were several beds, lockboxes full of medical goods, a variety of equipment. Hunter III had been fed things from here before. She spotted someone on the other end of the room, a woman, who was unaware she was being watched by the swimming, sleepy eyes of Hunter III. She pulled up her long, quite wavy blonde hair and unlatched a choker that was around her neck. A series of round red and purple bruises was joined by a new one as she injected herself with a large punch-needle full of a light blue fluid. She sighed with great satisfaction before fixing the choker.

Letting herself fall back on her chair with a placid smile for a moment.

Her eyes turned and saw Hunter III out of the corner of her thin-framed glasses.

“Sooner than I expected. Though, I suppose I can’t ever expect anything with you.”

The Antenora’s doctor, Livia Van Der Meer, turning a snake-like grin Hunter III’s way.

“How are you feeling? Anything irregular?” She cooed. Her eyes were a little red.

“Dunno.” Hunter III said. Her own head was still a little woozy.

“Norn forbid me from running any tests or taking blood, so all I could do was take your vitals and set you down somewhere comfy. All I know is that you turned into a monster and back; as you’re known to do.” Livia tittered. “But Norn’s off sulking right now so she can’t interfere if we wanted to have some fun. I’d love to study that interesting body of yours. What do you say? I’ve got plenty of drugs with interesting pharmacokinetics.”

“I dunno what that means.”

“Ah, forget it. I’ll draft something for you to read and sign; informed medical consent is important.”

“Are you ok? All ya keep sayin’ is nonsense to me.”

“I’m feeling splendid, little Hunter.”

Livia stood up from her chair and set down a hand on Hunter III’s head, ruffling her hair.

“Simply forget I said anything earlier. I don’t want to antagonize you.”

“I ain’t antagonized.”

“You won’t tell Norn?”

“Tell Norn what?”

“Good girl.” Livia ruffled her hair even more. “How was your sleep?”

Hunter III feebly defended herself from the petting.

“I dreamt I was a fish.” She mumbled.

“Hmm. That’s a very common dream. Moreso with children, but also adults too.”

“I don’t dream a lot.”

“Are you getting enough sleep? It takes at least 90 minutes to enter an REM cycle.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It’s the deepest form of sleep. It is regenerative, inspiring. Quite sought after.”

“Will I dream I’m a fish again?”

“Ah, forget it, cute little Hunter.”

Livia sat by the bedside, smiling as she turned half-shut eyes on Hunter III.

She sighed and adjusted the tie on her tight-chested button-down shirt. Her hands were covered in the black rubber sleeve of her bodysuit. Her coat, which was dragging down her shoulders, she also pulled back up, as if she needed to make herself look somewhat professional again before she could continue speaking. Pushing up her glasses and making a winking eye at Hunter III, she sat back, one leg over the other, arms crossed.

Tapping the side of the bedframe with the tip of one black pump.

“Norn says you’ll be resting and in reserve for now. You’ll be getting a reward, too.”

“Reward?”

“Norn has half a steer in the freezer. Prime red meat. Cooked however you like.”

Hunter III’s eyes opened wide. Her mouth started to water.

“It don’t need to be cooked much! Just thaw it out and torch it a teeny bit!”

Her heart swelled, animated and excited once more, practically jumping in bed.

“Blue rare then? I do love a bloody steak myself. I’ll let Norn know.” Livia said jovially.

Hunter III was so excited she could have leaped on Livia.

For that moment and the hours to come, all she could think about was: meat!


When the Jagdkaiser was returned to the hangar it was in a relatively poor condition.

At least, the part of the Jagdkaiser that Potomac cared about the most was in poor condition.

Sure, the mecha part was fine, and could have operated perfectly well sans the advanced psionic equipment, but who would call that an engineering triumph? Potomac’s inspection after Selene unplugged turned up extensive desynchronization of the homunculus brought about by acute psychomechanical stress. And Norn concerned herself with stuff like the Options — this was the real problem! Without orders and without thanks, Potomac set about recalibrating the Homunculus, so it aligned properly with the mechanical systems again.

While the entire Ocean moved around her, Potomac focused singularly on her task.

Hers was a single-minded focus, and things which did not interest her, she did not notice.

She dug into the cockpit of the Jagdkaiser, and there she stayed while the ship was stocked and inspected and finally made ready to depart from Ajillo. All manner of things had happened in there which Potomac was not concerned with, people were moving about, crates of stuff brought in, bloody people and things— it didn’t matter. Norn killed people seemingly every other day and her reasons were her reasons. Science did not concern itself with the ideology of the donors. As far as Potomac was concerned the sea could have turned upside down, as long as she could continue to work uninterrupted she would not have noticed. And presently, the sea looked quite upright.

Those outside of her organization might have seen her as odd, but among her peers she was entirely ordinary. Save for a rare few like Euphrates, the Immortal Council of the Sunlight Foundation was made up of malcontents that the “normies” would never understand. Her peers were people like Hudson, obsessed with internal organ cybernetics and making herself a machine, and Nile, who was obsessed with tinkering up viruses, parasites, and bacteria.

Potomac thus felt downright dignified to be obsessed with advanced computing instead.

But they were all disconnected from the world because they were seeking a greater truth.

That was the way of the Sunlight Foundation.

After all, if ordinary people could have done it, humanity would already be under the sun.

Because the Homunculus acted as a middleman between the neural input of the pilot and the mechanical systems of the Jagdkaiser, it could get desynchronized both ways, either becoming too sensitive to psionic signals (neurophillic) or too sensitive to digital signals (mechanophillic), creating lag and feedback everywhere. Potomac worked using a sensor which received a psionic waveform from the Homunculus, along with an electrical signal, and she used an electromagnet and her own psionic power to recalibrate the machine back to the desired balance. To untrained eyes it must have looked like she was poking the machine or waving at it — it was more than that!

This was science so advanced that it was verging on magic! Still, it was only science!

It was only the flexible ethics of this generation’s Yangtze that could have led them to finally develop machines like this. They had come close before, but psionic machines were a slow and nearly verboten development for the previous generations of Immortals. A new Yangtze, and new blood like Hudson, and heck, even Norn herself– the past thirty-to-forty years had been fun. They had made progress like they hadn’t in hundreds of years before.

Potomac was excited. She could not wait to see what these Homunculi could do–

–In less barbaric settings as this droll military vessel full of grunting, violent fools.

“Potomac.”

From below, a voice sounded up at her. How long had it been since she started?

She did not recognize the voice because she rarely recognized anyone’s voice.

When she was completely engaged, there were no other humans around her.

“One moment.” She said dismissively.

“You don’t even have to turn around.”

“Just a minute.”

“I’m just gonna ask a question.”

“Sure thing, sure thing, I’ll be ready in a second.”

“POTOMAC!”

Her sixth sense piqued; she felt a psionic outburst behind her–

Potomac turned in time to catch piece of torn carbon fiber hurled her way.

Below her, glowing with a bright red and yellow aura was–

Slender girl, pilot suit, purple hair, long rainbow-colored rabbit antennae, bright yellow eyes–

“Merrimack?”

“That’s not my fucking name you spacey bitch! It’s Selene!”

Selene balled up her hands into fists at her side, gritting her teeth, glaring up at Potomac.

Potomac sighed and shrugged.

“Your inventory codename was Merrimack. Forgive me for not keeping up.”

“Fuck you. Answer my question or I’ll split your head in half.”

Selene picked up another piece of carbon fiber, bits shorn off the Jagdkaiser’s legs.

Potomac looked around, briefly annoyed.

“Where’s Norn? Or Adelheid? Can someone please wrangle this lost child?”

None of the drones were paying attention. Such a thing was not their problem.

Another psionic spike–

Potomac pushed on the projectile and gently deflected it despite Selene’s furious intent.

“Alright! Alright!” Potomac shouted. “I’m sorry! Can we talk about this?”

She was unplugged, and wandered off by herself– why was she back now, and this belligerent?

“I want to know what’s inside that thing!”

Selene pointed past her at the homunculus system Potomac had been tinkering with.

Potomac stared speechlessly, unable to comprehend what was so upsetting.

“That’s all? You’re just curious about it? You didn’t have to throw things at me then!”

“It bled on me!” Selene shouted at the top of her lungs, her eyes tearing up. “I saw it, blood was dripping from between the plates on the dome! What the hell have you stuffed in there? What is it doing to me?”

“What? It doesn’t bleed– and it’s not possible for the organic matter to spill out of it.”

“Huh? It doesn’t– but it’s in there then? There’s something in there?”

Selene stood stunned; her violence suddenly halted.

Had the plates been able to drip at all, it would have compromised everything.

Potomac sighed and continued, matter-of-factly. “There is organic matter inside it, yes, but it could not have dripped on you. It’s a computer made from a neural organoid. It’s a bunch of tissue and I/O plugs in a contained environment. We made it out of pluripotent stem cells. Kind of like how we made you!” She tried to sweeten her tone as she watched Selene visibly stagger back a step, as if shocked dumb to hear this. “It’s completely normal! And it would not be able to bleed on you, the chassis is completely tight, and would need a major rupture before it spilled.”

Selene’s jaw shook. She stared up at Potomac and the Homunculus with drawn-wide eyes.

“It didn’t spill– but I saw– what did I–?”

Her body started to shake. Was this a fear response? Anxiety? She was mumbling too.

Feeling pressured to take some kind of responsibility, Potomac climbed down, out of the cockpit of the Jagdkaiser. Walking calmly, she stood closer to Selene, who made no move to respond or get away, transfixed on the interior of the Jagdkaiser’s cockpit and babbling something through her quivering lips only to herself.

Potomac begrudgingly spread her arms wide and drew Selene into a big hug.

“There, there. Clearly the current events are getting to you and your mental state isn’t 100%. You’re a sensitive girl. I forgive you. All that violence is unhealthy for you! I’ll ask Norn to give you a break from–”

At that moment, Selene screamed at the top of her lungs. She burst out crying.

Burying her head into Potomac’s chest and screaming right into the woman’s bosom.

Potomac hardly knew how to respond. She rubbed her head. She ruffled her hair.

With a sour look on her face, Potomac stood in the hangar holding the screaming girl.

Selene continued to scream, cry, to shove her head against Potomac. It went on; and on.


Hours after the incident that would be known as the “Ajillo Mutiny,” the Antenora departed from the station, having expunged all records relating to its visit save for small signs of the macabre violence which they had committed. It did not matter to Norn, who had gotten what she had wished for most of all: a chance to mete out the fullness of her violence on a suitably deserving fool. To test the freedom and dominance she attained, to flex the powers she had collected on her journey. A show of force not unlike those she performed under Konstantin.

After causing this scene, however, she quickly retreated back to her quarters.

Her physical appearance was causing her a thin mist of disgust and distress.

Dancing in the back of her head as if the tiniest insect had slipped beneath her skin.

Her skin which was no longer so fair, and in large part had become blueish-gray.

Her vibrant blond ponytail was returning to its natural silver-white coloration.

Norn shed her bloodstained and torn clothes and walked naked around her room, the wall surfaces mirroring her on every third panel. A warm yellow and wine-red radiance spread from the dim light sources sensually coloring the room. She could have banished the mirrors but she never did. Instead she stared at herself in them, as if equally fascinated and reviled, obsessed, and repelled. Her figure was no different, her stature, the sleekness of her limbs or the slenderness of her torso, none of it was any different. And yet she still felt like she was seeing herself as a monster.

She caught sight of her tail– a tiny little stub of a tail. It was growing. Again.

In an instant, almost automatically, she sliced it clean off with a telekinetic thrust.

A little bloody piece of blueish-gray katarran flesh landed on the floor.

Instantly, a tiny little round drone activated, picked it up, and took it out of sight.

Over the wound the blood curdled nearly instantly — Norn froze it shut.

When she cut her tail for the first time it had been agony.

Now, there was hardly feeling left.

Shutting her eyes, Norn walked over to the shower.

As much as Norn had wanted to keep her room spartan and miserable as possible, as much as she would have loved to hide herself in a literal can like a sardine, she did have a few necessities. Some particularly for the sake of certain others; the bed, for example, was a double-wide and plush, and there was a bedside table upon which there was a bottle of wine. For herself, she needed a personal shower and toilet. She could never allow anyone to see her so vulnerable. And there was a desk, too, with a dedicated terminal, which was the part of the room Norn used the most.

On the side of the room, the seemingly steel wall became clear glass and slid open, showing its true nature as the door to a spacious integrated shower with porcelain up to the knee, enabling it to serve as a bath also. There was an adjustable shower head with a variety of pressure settings, a set of fragrant bath and hair gels, scrubbing pads, and it even dispensed a black bath robe in a waterproof case for her use after the deed was done.

Norn slipped inside and shut the glass door and obscured it from no one’s eyes.

On a wall panel she set the water pressure and temperature digitally.

Pulling the shower head down, she stood directly under the gentle jets of warm water.

Hands up against the wall, head bowed, her soaked hair falling over her face, mist rising.

There was a sudden self-loathing thought that she could have frozen herself to death here.

Amid the prurient luxury of her pearlescent private shower, within the fog, a frozen statue.

Mehmed was never burned by his own flames; this was something the Sunlight Foundation once set down as a rule for the powers observed from the Apostles. Only Apostles had the ability to induce the extreme effects that characterized them. Accreting dust into boulders to fling, stirring gusts that hit with the force of a wrecking ball, hurling stalactites and searing flames drawn from seemingly nowhere. Apostles could not be hurt by their own powers–

–until Norn was observed.

Norn was unique among them.

She knew Majida could burn with impunity, just as Mehmed once did.

Had Norn not tampered with it, the little girl’s power would have also worked similarly.

It stood to reason to change the “rule” once there was an exception.

But Norn always believed she was totally unique, and unique in one specific way.

None of the Apostles hated themselves as much as she did.

So, of course, she could stop her own heart, freeze her own flesh off.

Psionics was the product of the human mind brought to its utmost extremes, living in a world that could kill humans at any moment with complete impunity, a world of such random and brutal cruelty. A mind subjected to the background stress of an existence which would never be truly comfortable, never be truly safe. A mind brought to an alien place and its alien pressures. The Sunlight Foundation believed the human mind was expanding somehow, underwater. The human mind was tapping into some kind of current which had existed unseen beneath the waves.

Mehmed once believed his power had a lineage to the surface — to the soul of the Shimii’s holy savior.

Majida doubtless believed the same, as the one now, essentially, carrying that exact “soul.”

Norn understood her psionics as the product of her own relationship to her ailing mind and the world around her. She had no special soul, no grand religious lineage. That she was an Apostle was a coincidence, an absurdity of life. She was born in a vat, tampered with using fossilized fish DNA. She was a Katarran, a twisted thing in the image of a human, made from tinkering with cells for the purpose of war. Normal Katarrans were sharks, jellyfish, crabs– she was a Panthalassian and so some of her DNA was drawn from mummified panderichthys tissue. She was a constructed thing, a walking falsehood. And she wasn’t even the constructed thing she wanted to have been.

She hid herself behind an Imbrian aesthetic, an Imbrian identity; and it gave her comfort.

Norn butted her head against the metal wall, shouting at the top of her lungs.

No one could have heard through the soundproofed walls, it was liberating, cathartic.

She hardly felt the pain. Only a tiny trickle of red trailed down the wall.

Water flowed through her hair, down her neck and over her shoulders and back.

Drops fell with rhythmic pops against the sleek porcelain floor of the shower.

Save for that, and the heavy panting of the woman inside it, the place was soundless.

Her own little world with as false a sense of peace and security as she herself was false.

Tears drew from her eyes that collected down the drain with the rest of the water.

Fangs bared; a ferocious grin appeared on her face as she began to weep.

“Konstantin, can you see me now, from where you are? Are you hurting too?”

Like the human brain screamed psionically for new powers with which to survive, a new world itself was screaming to be born within the Imbrium Ocean. A world that started with the abortive revolution of the Fueller Reformation and now reached its climax. Norn shed her tears in the shower and indulged her thoughts of self-destruction; because she had to walk outside of that glass cage where her fury and sorrow was bared and fertilize the ground of the new world with all of the vermin of the old. Their bodies, their minds, their ideas, their goals; compost for her garden.

Most of all, Konstantin’s body, mind, ideas, and goals.

His was the most potent fertilizer of all, and the one Norn most sought after.

She would hurt him, to his grave and beyond it. In a way that he finally truly felt.

“Fair’s fair, isn’t it? You never understood my pain.”

She started to laugh, clapping one of her hands over her eyes.

Eyes still copiously shedding tears.

“You took advantage of me. But I was always going to have the last laugh. I told you!”

Grinning with gritted teeth.

“All of your treasures would be mine, to enjoy, to discard, to break. No hard feelings!”

Thin red circles appeared around her eyes as she punched the wall.

Enough to deform the metal; while only lightly hurting her fist.

Katarrans were built pretty sturdy. That was the whole point of them as a people.

Her other hand reached for the gel dispenser.

Foaming suds spread across her hair, her body, as she rubbed herself down with it under the water. Switching the shower head to a special spray mode meant to blast dirt off her body — however effective it was at actually cleaning her, it had a soothing effect on her body, like the massage that Adelheid had promised and likely would not deliver. Having lounged around enough and achieving the end result of taking a shower at all, a cleaner, much less emotionally fraught Norn stepped out of the shower, wearing a black robe open down the middle.

Sighing deeply as the cool air of the room caressed her bare chest.

“For everyone’s sakes, I have to–” She started to speak but paused when she heard a titter.

When she took stock, she found someone sitting at her bed, legs crossed.

Smiling a vixen’s smile, giggling to herself, one hand lightly over her lips.

“Oh my~ what a lovely sight. I barged in just in time.”

Adelheid’s gaze disrespectfully traced Norn’s exposed body from her breasts to her dick.

There was really no other way to interpret that lascivious expression. Sitting there in her button-down shirt and tie, her open coat, her little skirt and leggings, her hair pinned up, and her bodysuit curiously missing.

Staring right at Norn’s groin.

“You’ve got some nerve lately.” Norn said.

“I’ve been curious actually, do all Katarran women have one?”

She pointed between Norn’s legs, causing Norn to follow her finger mindlessly.

Staring down at herself, she sighed, already exhausted with Adelheid’s manic play-acting.

“We’re all genetic freaks. It’s not something consistent. We are whatever comes out.”

“So it’s not something that’s really chosen, it just happened?”

“No Adelheid, as a fetus, I did not choose to be born with a dick.”

“So sarcastic! But you don’t dislike it, I know that much.”

“You’re right, there are things about myself I hate far more.”

Norn wandered to the other side of her room, pacing near her desk.

Adelheid smiled and tipped her head a little, making a cutesy shrug.

“I think you’re beautiful.” She said. “All of you is. In whatever form I see you in.”

Norn shot a glance at her.

“Trying to cheer me up?” Norn grunted.

“That or watch you sulk more in the nude, either works!” Adelheid teased.

Norn turned her back.

She reached for a plastic band from her desk and tied her hair up in a ponytail again. A seemingly innocuous action but she carried on with it methodically, in silence, for a minute or two. Waiting to see if she heard another peep out of Adelheid, her emotions simmering to a calm but constant bubbling. When she turned back around, she walked as if going past Adelheid on the bed. Her eyes stared past the beautiful redhead as if in disdain.

Then she stopped in front of Adelheid.

She turned toward the younger woman and raised a hand to her cheek.

Tracing the outline of her jaw, the softness of her chin, a grin growing on Norn’s face.

Adelheid looked up at her, sitting on the bed with a tiny halfway smile, lips barely parted.

Norn’s fingers lifted off that rosy cheek and gave it a few soft taps.

“Norn–? What’s with you–?”

Upon hearing her voice again, Norn’s fingers came down much faster, striking the same cheek.

Watching Adelheid cringe and grit her teeth in response to the slap– pure endorphins.

Grinning, Norn grabbed hold of Adelheid’s hair by the bun and pulled her head back.

Leaning forward and taking in Adelheid’s wide-eyed surprise, staring deep and close.

“Norn–! I–!”

Shut up.”

Norn stared directly into her eyes and Adelheid submitted instantly, her lip quivering, vocalizing nothing.

Internally she was satisfied with the reaction, but outwardly Norn scoffed.

“You called me Astra Palaiologos– don’t think I forgot. It’s been burning in my head. You’ve tested my patience before, acted out in all manner of stupid ways. I trusted you with that name, and you just spat it back at me. It is not my fault for trusting you: it’s your fault. You’ll behave– You’ll learn to behave because I’ll make you.” She pulled Adelheid’s red hair enough to loosen it from the bun, the silver hairclip fell clanging to the ground. Her dexterous fingers quickly seized upon the loose hair to retain firm command of Adelheid’s head, with a brusqueness that led the redhead to reach up to Norn’s hand reflexively. “And who said you could touch me? Hands off, now.”

Rather than strike Adelheid’s hand, she slapped her across that same reddening cheek.

Adelheid brought her hands down to the side of the bed, gripping the sheets.

Norn glanced at the door; eyes briefly glowing. All of the locking mechanisms engaged.

Then she turned her gaze, now bereft of psionic potency, back on her prey.

“Passphrase. Tell me now.” Norn demanded.

In a muttering little voice. “Cusp.” Their passphrase; something that couldn’t be misheard.

It was a weak, but instant reply. It almost prompted Norn to praise her– almost.

Not yet though. Nowhere near close.

“And if you can’t speak?”  

A more animated voice came out of Adelheid, between a little gasp as Norn’s hand crawled down her neck and grabbed hold of her collar and tie as if to force an answer. “Clap my left hand, three times.” She said.

“Correct.” Not good, acceptable, satisfactory. Nothing for her to feel lifted by.

Only ‘correct’.

Without warning Norn pulled her tie up, suddenly forcing Adelheid to stand up straight.

“Norn, I can be–!”

Shut up.”

Just taking her, pulling her, having control of her, sent blood rushing through Norn.

She felt herself coursing with vigor, every part of her standing alert.

Whenever she raised her voice, whenever she exerted physical force– pleasure swelled.

Feeling the tiny pulses of Adelheid’s life through the collar, through the grip on her hair.

“Can you be good?” Norn asked; but gave no time to answer.

In an instant Norn served herself the girl’s lips, stealing the lacquer taste of red lipstick and the bitter bite of the wine she had left out. Possessive tongue intruding past, longer, deeper than Adelheid’s own like she could taste the back of her throat, warm breaths captured from the girl squirming in her grip. Holding her tight by the neck and hair, asserting her control. Adelheid’s eyes shut from a brief but sharp scraping of teeth as Norn suddenly parted.

Adelheid’s jaw hung slightly open, a tiny pinprick of blood on the inside of her lip.

Tongue drawn back, labored shuddering breaths, a droplet of sweat down her red flecked cheek.

Her eyes were cloudy. As if she was staring past Norn.

Norn’s fingers crawled, between the tie, into the collar, running over that soft pink skin.

Adelheid shivered as if electrified by the touch. She locked eyes with Norn.

“Can you be good?” Norn asked her again.

“I can be good.” Adelheid said. Her voice drawling, distant.

Those words in that tone– they were a jolt of pure pleasure down all of Norn’s veins.

“We’ll see.”

As if there was no weight to her, Norn suddenly threw Adelheid back down to the bed–

Holding the tie–

“–!”

Adelheid vocalized something incoherent as she jerked forward on her leash.

Pulled to the end of the bed once more, her head coming to rest against Norn’s belly.

That hand which had been holding her hair from the back now held it from the top.

Palm resting over Adelheid’s crown and guiding her head farther below.

“Do I need to remind you what to do?”

She didn’t.

Adelheid’s lips closed around Norn’s cock with no further prompting.

For a moment Norn almost lost her iron-like composure.

That touch, that feeling of pressure and tightness over her most sensitive skin– Warmth, the slickness of Adelheid’s lips and tongue as she took Norn in deep and drew back over the shaft– to see those soft lips stuffed full of her erection and incapable of backchat– it was intoxicating, it started to flood over Norn’s mind, to draw out the fullness of her senses, from below her belly to her hips and the tips of her breasts, like electricity and fire–

Above all else, the sense of control

Looking down at the cascade of red hair parting for that pearl-pink face so focused on her.

She hardly needed to be told. She was so dutiful, so instantly bound.

Pulling back, sliding her tongue over the blueish-pink head–

Staring up with her cloudy eyes while kissing playfully on the very tip–

“Don’t get too full of yourself.” Norn mocked, briefly shutting her eyes.

In response, Adelheid took her into her mouth fully once again.

Norn drew in a breath, shutting her lips. Holding back any sound of satisfaction. Trying to appear composed despite the quaking in her gut and groin. Norn stroked Adelheid’s hair with increasing intensity as her lover eagerly tasted her. A fluttering feeling for her lover soared in her heart; as burning a passion as she felt below.

At that point, Norn felt, her own body was perfect. Paired with Adelheid, it was perfect.

“You’re trying so hard. I’m going to test you then.”

Her free hand crawled to Adelheid’s face.

Caressing fingers on one white cheek, briefly pulling the hair out of her lover’s eyes.

Drumming on the silk-soft flesh, one-two-three–

Drawing back from that cheek–

Striking sharply–

Adelheid groaned through a mouthful of cock.

As she recoiled from the slap there was the briefest brush of teeth on Norn’s shaft.

That fleeting sting sent a thrill rushing through to Norn’s hips, made her quiver.

Adelheid knew not to bite down. She struggled and succeeded in controlling herself.

Norn loved the threat of it. That ephemeral press of the hot vice on the skin of her dick.

Her fingers dug into Adelheid’s head, her feet shifted, she bent forward, beginning to shake her hips and thighs in rhythm to Adelheid’s mouth, to lose herself to the tight, rushing sensation suddenly reaching its peak. A smile, a wild mad smile on Norn’s face– she fought back laughter. It was all she could do to let off steam, in a way that would not give in and show too much leniency. All the while the tension continued to build inside her.

“Let’s see if you’re really a good girl.”

Stroking her hair with one hand while holding her head with the other–

Then seizing her by the back of her head, playfully going deeper in her mouth.

Pushing her closer, sliding every millimeter she could–

Her tip held tight in Adelheid’s throat–

“Nothing– nothing to say–?” She teased but in reality Norn could barely breathe.

Such emotion, such a swelling surge of pleasure, Norn could hardly remain upright, feeling Adelheid’s shaking body coming closer, enveloped in her flesh, savoring the wet gagging noises and closed-eyed focus from her partner who was so compliant, who made no protest as Norn thrust ever deeper into her mouth and into climax. Shuddering from her core, feeling all of the pent-up tension come washing over her, doused in that passion–

“Good girl. Good girl.” Norn gasped for breath.

A trickle of fluid spilled from Adelheid’s mouth as Norn pulled back, mixed spit and cum trailing from those obedient red lips. Adelheid’s deeply flushed face glistened in the light with beaded sweat. Red hair hanging messy, framing fog-lost eyes gone to a world of their own. Chest rising and falling, panting, plaintive in posture, arms holding weakly onto Norn for support. Legs shaking, toes curling, her heels discarded meters past the foot of the bed.

Norn watched her, drawing back, recovering her own breath and composure.

Watched her, as the smallest impression of a smile began to form on her face.

“Don’t get complacent. I’m nowhere near done with you.”

She bent down to fix Adelheid’s distant eyes with her own focused gaze.

When their eyes met, Adelheid quivered again.

Norn crawled into bed, imposing herself once more.

Adelheid folded as Norn advanced, lying back and letting her lover loom over.

Laying one forceful hand over Adelheid’s wrist for support, Norn let her free hand roam.

Tracing a line from navel to breast as she popped every button on the girl’s shirt.

Unveiling a fashionable black brassiere, sheer cups with a butterfly wing pattern.

Norn pulled it down gently.

Basking in the glow of those pert, pale breasts soon exposed.

Her eyes broke from Adelheid’s hazy gaze. It was her turn to lavish Adelheid’s body with attention, to worship at her altar as she had been worshipped. Of course, her worship had a different tone. She was slavish in her own way but Norn wanted to see red, wanted to leave a claiming mark. Slowly, methodically Norn brought her lips to the tip of one of Adelheid’s breasts, taking the dark-pink flesh into a kiss while stroking the other breast, squeezing it in her hands until the tips of her fingers dug. She felt Adelheid quake as her tongue flicked over the girl’s nipple.

Heard her whine and felt her shifting legs as sharp teeth grazed past the nipple–

And closed on the areola, leaving a circular impression on the pliable skin–

“–!”

Adelheid made delightful little noises, whining and panting as Norn teased her breasts roughly.

Tongue tasting sweat, mismatched teeth marks and bright red spots of sucking kisses–

Relishing in the feeling of that perfect soft skin giving in so easily, turning so red–

Feeling every tiny vibration of the skin against her lips, the little moans and sharp intakes of breath–

“Turn over.”

By the same hand she had been squeezing against the bed, Norn helped Adelheid to shift position. Her prey dutifully showed her back, and Norn pulled her shirt all the way off to expose it. Another ocean of white to turn blissfully red. Adelheid was strong for a rich girl, but still soft all over, the slightest trace of Norn’s hands leaving red trails on the girl’s skin. She was sensitive, shuddering predictably at the claws awaiting the taste of skin.

Norn’s wandering hands crawled down that beautiful back to the waist, taking their time.

Short blunt fingernails tight enough to draw a scarlet path that caused her back to arch.

Over the gentle slope of the lower back to the curve of the buttocks, beneath black and silver fabric.

Skirt and tights went down below thin, silky panties designed to match the bra.

They slid down off her firm, round rear quite easily. Norn pushed her head down.

She couldn’t see Adelheid’s face anymore, only the waves of red hair.

Yet she had a vivid picture in her mind. Those entranced eyes half-shut, biting her lips, taking in sharp breaths. Her hands drawn together against the headboard as if bound despite being left quite free. The moment Norn finally cupped a greedy handful of her ass, Adelheid’s entire body visibly shuddered in anticipation. Fingers dug, released; a firm slap drew a surprised little cry from Adelheid’s lips and left a red imprint as bright as the bite marks.

Bent over, rear up and head down, with Norn’s face now buried in her hair.

Shaking from outstretched hands to curled toes, her back drawing in and out with the exertion of breath.

While Norn loved to see her expressions, she relished in having only body language to divine from.

“Good girl, good girl. You’re really improving. You’ve earned a reward.”

Once more Norn’s hands traveled skillfully where they wished, but so did her lips.

Sucking, biting kisses tracing down that slender white neck, those soft, round shoulders, and the supple impressions of the shoulderblades. She found a spot, silk-soft and firm, right behind the shoulder, to leave a bite, to sink her teeth and carve an impression of her hunger on Adelheid’s white flesh once more. Adelheid gasped, cried out in surprise, and her shuddering and shaking transferred to Norn who had fully climbed over her, skin to skin, breasts against back, pressing her soft dick against softer flesh and her fangs tasting a bead of sweat and iron–

And in response to that wavelength which formed between their flesh–

Norn slipped her hand between Adelheid’s thighs while biting down on her back.

“Ahh! Norn! Norn!”

Hearing her yell that name in passion was almost enough to get Norn hard again.

Her agile fingers split Adelheid open, massaging her needy clit–

“Ahh–! I love–! I love you–! –Norn!”

That was all she had wanted to hear.

Such a thing as she could not say with words, Norn said with her hands, with her lips.

Brought to her peak by the touch Adelheid bucked her hips, threw her back, squirmed, and moaned in Norn’s embrace while those fingers continued to work her clit in perfect sync drawing out every possible second of passion. Norn felt her stiffen, straightened, slacken, hands coming down from the headboard. Her whole body softened; tension released by the swelling rhythm of an orgasm that shook her hips and thighs with a final throes.

Adelheid fell silent and still, insensate in her own ocean of blood and pleasure.

Norn’s teeth released Adelheid’s shoulder and caught in her own passion Norn suddenly laid copious kisses wherever she could reach, on the neck, on the cheek. Not to paint over the reddening white of her lover’s skin but to satisfy her own irrepressible, flooding desire to love the girl whom fate had given her.

Coming to lie behind her, to take her a gentle embrace, holding her tight.

No need to speak, to say, “good girl,” and disturb the moment.

She knew she was a good girl. And she knew that Norn, certainly, loved her back.

Norn pressed her forehead to Adelheid’s face, feeling her peaceful breaths.

She treasured her so much. She wanted to grab hold of her and never let go.

For a moment, she felt perfect. All of her past disappeared, all of the souls tethered to her.

Born Astra Palaiologos; became Norn and then Norn von Fueller.

Created in Katarre in a bid to end the desperate struggle there.

Holding her beloved close, Norn felt like a person made in heaven instead of a vat.

Now she had a new Ocean to rule with a new purpose.

I’ll protect you. I’ll protect you and everyone else from all of this.

They couldn’t simply say these things to each other. But their bodies always knew.


Hours passed, with Adelheid sleeping soundly on Norn’s bed under wine-red sheets.

Norn herself rested, for a time.

However, she soon received a message, and then a call. Dressed in the Fueller family coat over her robe, closed and buttoned down, she took the call on her desk. A two-way video window appeared on the wall of the desk. With the way it was oriented, Adelheid was vaguely visible in the background. She was bundled up and decent, however.

“Is this a bad time–? Oh. I did not intend to force you to appear in that skin, Aunt Norn.”

“I could’ve declined. I’ll be looking the picture of Imbrian perfection again soon.”

“I see. Very well. I have a few things I wanted to discuss before I leave the capital.”

On the screen was a young man with golden blond hair, his beautiful features clashing with the drab rigidity of his pristine military uniform, grand epaulets, and red cape, his chest adorned with dozens of honors, all framing him as some mighty conquering force and not the boy she knew him as. To Norn, this was someone she always thought of as “a boy”: Erich von Fueller, first in line to the throne in the traditional order of things, oldest son of the late Emperor Konstantin von Fueller. A boy with the same emotionless face as he had in childhood.

“You’re leaving Heitzing? Is it time for the Bosporan campaign, this soon?”

“No, not yet.” Erich said. “The Volkisch Movement to the south is testing our patience.”

“That’s not all they are testing. They are goading you, but you also don’t have the freedom to rise to every provocation, little man. To conquer the west and south, is to leave the east and north without forces. You do not have the power to conquer both, and you will not ever have it if you choose your targets poorly.” Norn said.

“I am not going to conquer the Volkisch. At the moment, they are too useful.”

“Ah, so a show of force to bring them to heel.”

“Precisely.”

Norn felt terribly amused by all of this, wearing a broad grin as she listened to her newphew.

“It’s also foolish to call too many bluffs. Your father was too fond of ‘showing force’, to the point he ‘showed force’ everywhere at once and had no position from which he could mount an effective, transformative campaign. You would do well to know where you can afford to commit and for how long.” Norn said. She smiled casually.

Erich’s expression did not change in response to her.

“I understand. Thank you for the wisdom. I believe this skirmish will be punctual and short. Unlike father I am leading this show of force myself. I could fail; but if I do, I will do so personally.”

“Entertaining the possibility of defeat was so not like you, years ago. You’ve matured.”

“I’ve grown quite independent. But I also have something to lose now. I’ve fallen in love.”

Norn grinned. Such a funny thing to say! “Fallen in love? I can relate to that.”

Erich nodded. “Adelheid van Mueller is the girl on the bed?”

“Indeed. How are the Muellers doing lately?”

There was no shame between them. It was like an exchange between fond friends.

“Adelheid’s connection to you has irreparably tied them to the Fueller family. It prevented them from running away to be at the head of the Royal Alliance, despite being the number two family in influence. They are instead a functional but not spectacular part of my logistics network. Serviceable but not splendid. To think that girl’s love for you destroyed the second family of the Empire so thoroughly. It gives me hope for the future.”

“I’m glad you find it charming. I’ve been feeling like I’m twenty years old again.”

“I am happy for you. However, there is a reason I called beyond catching up.”

“Of course.”

Erich’s expression had never turned smiling nor overtly serious. He was just not like that with anyone as far as Norn knew. He was always stone faced and neutral. However his tone of voice could indicate his mood. He had been animated, speaking out of a sense of love for the one family member whom he wanted to be cordial to.

However, now his voice had become graver.

“It’s about father. I tell you in the hope that our alliance will persevere despite–”

Norn smiled broadly and interrupted him quickly. “I know you killed Konstantin.”

There was no surprise in Erich’s face. He had anticipated that reaction. Of course he had.

“You grew to become chiefly responsible for his security. So of course you knew.”

“I knew. Knowledge of your plot was, in fact, what prevented me from killing him.”

“In a sense then, you raised me for the task. Or it was favorable to you how events played out.”

“This was the outcome that caused Konstantin the most pain. So of course I desired it.”

Erich nodded his acceptance. It did not faze him.

“I made sure he knew it was me, and that he was too crippled to say so until his end.”

“You’re wrong that he couldn’t say so, Erich. We talked plenty in his dying days. Nobody but me knows how long he had been truly ill nor the characteristics of his illness. He knew it was you. It killed him more than the injection.”

Erich blinked and kept his eyes shut for a moment. “I see. You talked, but he wouldn’t say it aloud.”

“He was so proud of you. He never knew he was so hated. By you and in general.”

“I despised him utterly. Him and everything he stood for. I wanted to avenge mother.”

“Well, now he is dead and everything he stands for is in pieces.” Norn said, grinning.

“Not everything.” Erich’s gaze drifted. “Aunt Norn I must know: did my father love you?”

“Oh?”

Norn put on a bloody grin in front of her nephew’s deathly serious face.

“Do you think I’m one of his treasures that still needs breaking?” She said coyly.

“Not necessarily. Should we ever come to blows, I hope it would not be over something so petty and pointless as this. Furthermore, whatever the answer, you’ll always be my favorite family member.”

How amusing; playing the sweet boy still when he had grown into a schemer himself.

“So just out of curiosity? We had a complicated relationship. He loved me sometimes and hated me other times. I at best found him amusing and at worst disgusting. I am certainly thankful for all the power and authority he conferred unto me, even as I was abusing it to torment him. I– I never loved him.”

She hesitated only slightly.

If she ever loved Konstantin, it was more like an awful younger brother than anything else.

Erich seemed satisfied with the answer.

“I have been preoccupied with understanding father. Now that I have to exercise power in his absence. What drove him to take power? What led him to fail to enact his so-called Reformation? Did he struggle against the forces trying to restrict his revolution or did he embrace them? Was it hedonism, nihilism– why did he fall?”

Norn scoffed. “He has nothing valuable to teach you. Just forget about him.”

Erich nodded. “No one wishes to forget him more than I do, Aunt Norn.”

“Is that why you let me take over the Fueller family without objection?”

“Yes. I surrendered the stewardship because I despise the Fueller name and its people.”

“Even Elena?”

Erich briefly paused. He was clearly surprised and collecting himself for a response.

Norn pressed him. “Enough to kill her, even?”

“When her mother was killed, I felt thrilled because it would hurt father. As for Elena herself, I have always contained myself to doing the bare minimum to support her, and I did the bare minimum. I treated her well, but I could never love her. It is good that she is gone; she was too helpless for this world and would have only been used her entire life. She is doubtless in a more merciful place now. But I did not kill her. I would never do that.” Erich said.

A carefully crafted response, but still a completely snake-like one.

“Your choice of action and inaction was tantamount to sanctioning murder.” Norn said.

“I miscalculated the degree of danger she and I were in. It was one of doubtless many errors I will make.”

That was the thinnest veneer of an excuse. As far as Norn cared, Erich did kill Elena.

He killed her as soon as he scheduled that party and he knew it.

However, it did not matter. Just as it did not matter that he killed Konstantin.

In Konstantin’s case, Norn was in the same place as Erich was for Elena.

Action and inaction tantamount to sanctioning murder.

Doubtless Norn had premeditated Konstantin’s death far more than Erich had for Elena’s.

Erich did not dwell on it. He seemed to finally say what he came here to say.

“I wanted to reaffirm our alliance. Not from my end, but from yours.”

“Oh? Surely you see that I am enjoying the lovely ship you have granted me.”

“Aunt Norn, your existence and power is a threat and moderating influence on the Sunlight Foundation and this is why I want to continue to equip and supply you. Working with them has shown me that they are the next terror that must be destroyed after the Imbrian Ocean is reunited. From Nile’s poisons to Hudson’s machines, to Yangtze’s foul intellect, they have broken their self-styled scientist’s creed and cannot be trusted to continue on in the shadows. They have wronged you in the past. I believe you can agree with me. And that it can continue to unify us for the moment.”

“I’m hurt. You act as if it’s inevitable I’ll betray you unless we have a common enemy.”

Norn pouted and feigned injury, making a face almost like what Adelheid would have.

“You have a track record of needing those common enemies, I’m afraid.” Erich said.

“Is that so?”

“As much as I esteem you, Aunt Norn, I know you will give me no choice but to fight you.”

Norn fixed his eyes with a suddenly proud, red-ringed stare. “You’d be a fool to even try, my sweet boy.”

His mind was as guarded as his father’s was. A vexing mental labyrinth.

But the sensation of her probing must have still bothered him. He did not let it show.

Instead, he nodded solemnly. “Will I see you at the Fueller family reunion soon?”

“I’ll try to make it, of course.” Norn said. Her eyes softened and she smiled again.

Bounding back from threats to casual family talk had become quite a Fueller pastime.

“Very well. It is always refreshing to speak to you. I hope that those defectors prove useful.”

“Best of luck to you on campaign, my precious nephew.”

She truly meant it. It would be a pity for him to exit the stage this early.

Especially if what he said was true, and he had learned to love another person.

As always, the Imbrium Ocean was simply replete with dramas and tragedies.

Erich’s face disappeared from the screen, but there was another call lined up.

Norn put it on one-way video. She could see who it was, but they would not see her.

A woman with copious, wavy blonde hair and a devilish smile appeared.

“I’m here.” Norn said.

“Good evening boss. I have prepared everything for the procedure.”

She gestured to a machine behind her, and a visible container of biomaterials.

“Splendid. Can’t wait to be in your care again, doctor.”

“I’ll even be a bit sober for it. I’ll await your arrival, then.”

Doctor Livia Van Der Meer disappeared from the screen.

Norn sighed. Her new Second Skin was ready to be applied.

Looking over her shoulder at Adelheid, she wished she could sleep so soundly.

Before she could leave the desk and return to bed, there was yet another message.

“As soon as they see my computer is on they just start flooding me.” Norn grumbled.

This one, however, piqued Norn’s attention.

It was a distress signal forwarded from the bridge to her room.

From the Iron Lady — flagship of the Inquisition and its flagship Inquisitor, Lichtenberg.

Norn flashed a sudden smile.

“Little Gertrude? My foolish little Gertrude is here? Oh, this I must see.”

Truly the drama of the abyss never ceased! What brought Gertrude out here?

Could it be–?


Previous ~ Next

Thieves At The Port [5.8]

“Captain, why are we doing this? We can just disembark right now.”

“A hospitality order means we have to keep them in here, but I just can’t accept doing so under the present circumstances. Not when neither of them actually knows the whole story.”

“We only have to keep one, technically speaking. Those are our orders.”

“We can’t just leave Republic Intelligence out to dry. We need them as allies.”

“Did you plan on doing this from the start? Orders are orders, you know.”

“We have to tell them. I’m not going to hold innocent people hostage here for months.”

“While I will support your chosen course of action, I disagree with it.”

“Aaliyah, I can’t live with myself if I tell them halfway to Carmen that they might never set foot on a Union station. If they end up leaving, I’ll take responsibility with Nagavanshi.”

“Ulyana, it won’t just be with Nagavanshi and it won’t just be you alone, you know?”

Captain Ulyana Korabiskaya stopped in the middle of the hallway.

She and Commissar Aaliyah Bashara were just meters away from the planning room.

Ulyana had not considered how her actions might have affected Aaliyah.

It was this that gave her pause as she contemplated going against her orders.

She looked back at her Commissar, visibly conflicted. Aaliyah shook her head.

“You need to have the conviction to choose your course of action, Captain.”

“Well, I don’t want to end up making decisions like this for you.”

“I happen to agree with the ethical thrust of your decision.” Aaliyah said.

She sounded a little frustrated. Ulyana felt a bit baffled at her response to this.

She was such a ball of contradictions sometimes.

Perhaps that is what it meant to advise someone. Maybe this was just her style.

“So you agree with the sentiment behind my actions but not the actions themselves?”

“I’m just saying, Captain. Orders are orders. But I will support your decision. It’s my duty.”

Ulyana nodded in acknowledgment.

Silently, she turned back to the door of the planning room and stepped inside.

Around the table, Maryam Karahailos and Marina McKennedy waited with Akulantova.

Marina’s analyst was away: in security custody with Van Der Smidse for the moment.

“Greetings, comrades! I’m Captain Ulyana Korabiskaya of the UNX-001 Brigand.”

Marina gave the Captain a quick salute. “What does UNX stand for? Union Navy what?”

“Experimental. I’m Commissar Aaliyah Bashara. Care to introduce yourself, Republican?”

Aaliyah interceded. She bristled at Marina for her breach of etiquette.

“Marina McKennedy, I’m with the G.I.A Directorate of Operations.” Marina said.

Republic personnel had a reputation in the Union for having sloppy decorum.

Ulyana did think that Marina looked a bit disheveled, even in that sharp suit.

“I suppose I don’t have many questions, except, ‘how long from here to Ferris’?”

Marina grinned and leaned back on her seat with arms crossed over her chest.

Beside Marina, a cuttlefish Pelagis with a gentle smile raised her hand.

“I’m Maryam Karahailos. It’s nice to meet all of you. Thank you so much for taking me in.”

“Pleasure to meet both of you.” Ulyana said. “Agent McKennedy, your appearance was unexpected, but we welcome you board. In fact, having your Diver unit aboard has really fascinated our techs. So feel free to make yourself at home. Sister Karahailos, we will want to speak with you about the information you want to share and get it on the record.”

“Indeed!” Maryam said. Her hair and skin seemed to glow just a little bit.

“How long will I be making myself at home here for? I’m hoping for a clean run south.”

Marina seemed quite impatient, and Aaliyah looked to be chafing against her attitude.

“We’re here to talk about that.” Said the Commissar, her eyes narrowed and her hands on her hips. “And the reason we’re not disembarking yet is precisely because of that, otherwise we would have just stocked you with some blankets and roomed you in one of the torpedo chambers.”

“You’re right, there shouldn’t be much to explain. So what’s going on?” Marina asked.

“Simply put, we’re not going back to the Union. You got a bit unlucky with your rescuer.”

Ulyana heaved a sigh after saying this. She tried to play it cool, but the responses were dire.

Marina stared at her, briefly speechless, tentatively raising and lowering her hands.

Maryam turned momentarily pale white as a cave mushroom. Her whole body shuddered.

Her body’s color scheme seemed to “glitch,” a wave of disturbed, “noisy” color sweeping over her.

“What the fuck do you mean by not going back?” Marina shouted, standing up suddenly.

Akulantova reached out a burly arm and casually forced her back to her seat.

“Language. Address the Captain with respect, if not for her then for me, please.”

Marina scarcely resisted. Most people didn’t once they felt Akulantova’s grip on them.

“God damn it. So I’m just your hostage then, to wherever you’re fucking off to?”

“No. You can walk back out that cargo elevator and go back to Serrano if you want.”

Ulyana pointed her thumb over her shoulder to indicate the door behind her.

“In truth, we don’t really know where we’re going next, but it’s not the Union.”

“We’re part of a train and equip mission to sabotage the Empire’s ability to suppress the Bureni insurgency.” Aaliyah said. It was an accurate enough description as any, though Ulyana felt like she was being charitable about the ultimate goal of their journey. Certainly, Buren was a destination, but whether they would be able to train and equip anyone, and what that would do to the Empire’s fighting ability where it mattered — that was very much up to luck to sort out.

Even Marina seemed able to quickly tell the obstacles in front of them.

“No disrespect to your sense of duty, but you comrades are getting sent out to die.”

“You must understand what that feels like, as a G.I.A. agent, but also why we do it.”

“Sorry commie cat, but I’m not a blood and country type like the rest of you.”

“Well, you can always be a ‘washed up on the docks with no ride’ type instead.”

Ulyana interrupted before Aaliyah could respond to the ‘commie cat’ remark.

“Fuck you.” Marina replied. Akulantova sighed audibly. “You fucking know I can’t leave!”

“Nobody knows who you are! You could go back to the dockworkers and get another ship down South. The border’s all clear! We can even give you money for bribes. You can leave right now. If you stay here, I’m going to need you to really consider the situation and acknowledge your support for us. And you don’t have long to decide.”

Ulyana leaned down to the table, setting down a fist on it, and locking eyes with Marina.

Marina’s whole body was shaking with a visible fury and frustration.

“Excuse me, may I butt in for a second?”

Maryam raised her hand, and one of the tentacles coming from the side of her head.

She had a nervous smile on her face and her colors had returned to their lively hues.

“Right, sorry we forgot you for a moment.” Ulyana said. “Sister, to us, you are a VIP that we have orders to retain in custody. Those orders came from our direct superiors. That being said, I can’t in good judgment force anyone to stay that does not want to. It could undermine morale and cohesion to have people here under false pretenses.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I will stay.” She said. “I am valuable to you, so I know you’ll keep me safe.”

For a brief moment, Maryam’s gaze looked intense, full of determination and confidence.

Ulyana looked into those odd, beautiful eyes and felt a wave of reassurance wash over her.

She smiled back at Maryam. What a relief to have somebody cooperating with them.

“I’m glad to have you aboard Sister. So what do you think, Agent McKennedy?”

Marina scoffed. “Well, you have me by the dick so what am I supposed to say?”

“You can start by apologizing for that mouth of yours.” Akulantova raised her voice.

“I need to get out of this station, Captain Korabiskaya.” Marina begrudgingly moderated her tone. “I can’t risk waiting for another ship. I don’t have a tail now, but no one knows what tomorrow will bring. I can’t gamble her– my life like this.” She paused briefly, rubbing her hands down her face. “All I have now is you people and my Diver in your hangar. So I will stay. And it behooves me then to cooperate with your mission, so I will do it. But I want access to all of your intelligence. I want to be an equal partner in this. I can stand in your bridge; I can see everything you do. Clear?”

Ulyana crossed her arms. “I suppose that’s fair. Commissar?”

Aaliyah’s ears bristled. She really seemed to hate Marina’s tone of voice.

“I’m not against sharing information, but she’s not part of our chain of command.”

“If she wants to stand on the bridge, she can stand there, and I’m sure she can make herself useful. You and Maryam can be our advisors on Imperial culture and current events. Does that sound good enough, McKennedy?”

“Sure.” Marina shrugged. “And as for Elen, my analyst, I want her exempt from ship duties.”

“She can take a pleasure cruise then. Looks like we’re all agreed finally.” Ulyana replied.

Maryam clapped her hands gently. “Welcome aboard, Agent McKennedy!”

Marina gave her a weary, dismissive look. “So, where’s my torpedo tube?”

“Good question.” Ulyana said. “We’re going to need to clear out some room space.”

“All our officers are housed alone in two-bunk rooms.” Aaliyah said. “So we can assign each our guests to bunk with one of the officers. That would be the simplest solution to get everyone housed with the least trouble.”

“I want to bunk with Elen. Is there a spare room I can have for two?” Marina said.

“You ask for a lot, you know that?” Aaliyah snapped.

“I’ll give my room to her and Elen.” Ulyana said. “That should make everyone happy, right?”

“Overjoyed.” Marina grumbled.

“Captain, where will you go then?”

Ulyana turned from Marina to Aaliyah with an awkward expression.

“Well. I was hoping my next-door neighbor could help with that–”

Aaliyah’s ears and tail darted up as straight as they could go.

“Captain– We’ll discuss it later!” She said, clearly flustered. Ulyana should’ve known it’d become an issue.


“Serrano has cleared us for departure!”

Semyonova’s face appeared on every screen aboard the Brigand, informing the personnel that the carrier was departing Serrano, only a few hours since they first arrived. While there were some groaning sailors who wished they could have gotten to see the shore at all, almost everyone felt relieved that they had entered an Imperial station and could now leave it without incident. It meant that maybe the crazy journey they were on had a chance in hell of actually succeeding.

Around the Brigand, the glass and steel of the berth shifted, isolating them from Serrano’s port and then flooding their chamber. Finally, they were exposed to the Nectaris Ocean and then released from their docking clamps. The Brigand freed itself from the port structure and began once again to make its way through the ship traffic out from under the station and into the open ocean. In tow, the ship had a VIP, a Republic G.I.A. agent and her mech, an analyst of no repute, and several crates of pack rations courtesy of Warehouse No. 6. Their first mission was a success.

“We’ll talk about our next moves tomorrow. For now, just rest up. Have a biscuit.”

Captain Korabiskaya dismissed Maryam and Marina with a gentle nod.

They had resolved the long-term situation with their guests’ lodging.

Marina and Elen would be staying in the Captain’s room.

The Commissar reluctantly agreed to bunk with the Captain temporarily.

“Oh, what a cute bear!”

Maryam Karahailos was assigned to bunk with Sonya Shalikova and arrived at her room.

When she walked through the door, Shalikova nearly jumped off her bed in a fright.

“What are you doing here?” Shalikova called out.

She shouted with such a passion that Maryam’s colors briefly turned pale.

“Ah, I’m sorry for disturbing you. I was assigned to this room.”

“Assigned? This room?”

“I need a place to stay long term. After all, you’re not returning to the Union.”

Maryam closed her eyes and smiled, her hands behind her back, with a cutesy expression.

Shalikova felt a gnawing guilt in her chest, watching Maryam trying to act unbothered.

She knew it was only just acting. Shalikova was too observant not to notice the signs.

The Pelagis had hid her hands behind her back because they were shaking.

Her whole body language spoke of someone covering up what they really wanted to say.

That smile was all false; her cutesy posture and movements meant to hide her anxiety.

She had just caused Maryam more pain in the end. She had not really spared her anything.

“I’m really sorry. I– I could have told you back then and I didn’t.” Shalikova said.

Regardless of whether she was a soldier and needed to follow orders, Shalikova was raised as a communist. She didn’t know a lot of theory like Murati did; and she was not able to just blindly follow all orders like the Commissar might. But Shalikova was a communist and a soldier because she could never stand by and let people be hurt or trampled over. And maybe that meant keeping her distance from others. So she couldn’t hurt or inconvenience them herself.

Shalikova could have told Maryam the truth.

She lied because she was pathetic.

Because as much as she hated to, she was always hurting others too.

“Ahh you have such a sad aura suddenly! I understand, it’s ok! You’re a soldier. They asked you to come fetch me. If you told me you weren’t going to the Union, and I ran off in a passion, it would’ve caused you trouble. I get it. I don’t hold anything against you. I’d hate it if you felt guilty over something so small, you know?”

Maryam’s body language visibly relaxed. Shalikova was a little perplexed.

She really expected Maryam to hate her.

To have taken this room assignment solely for the purpose of confronting her.

Or something like that.

Maybe it was her overdramatic brain, twisting herself into knots. How stupid!

For a girl with such keen senses Shalikova’s feelings had become very unclear to herself.

Her heart was twisted up in a knot. It was– it was very unsoldierly of her.

“I told you, and I meant it. You help me feel comfortable. We’re on a first name basis, even!” Maryam beamed ever more broadly. “I was so nervous that I’d bother you by showing up here, but when the Captain said I could room with anyone, there was only one person I wanted to stay with. If it’s someone I could be around for months and months, then it had to be you, Sonya.”

That impassioned speech fell on Sonya’s head like a falling light fixture.

“Why are you like this? What is your problem?” Sonya shouted suddenly, in a cracked tone of voice like a crying child. Her face was burning red. “You’re so weird! Fine! You can stay in my room if you want! But stop being so familiar!” She raised the blankets of her bunk over her head, gritting her teeth.

Maryam stared at that particular display for a moment without any reaction.

“Ah, I’m sorry. Back in the convent the other nuns always said I was too emotional–”

Sonya grumbled. “It’s not about being ‘emotional’! What you are is much too ‘forward’!”

“Eh? Well, I don’t get it, but I’m sure we’ll sort it out over time, roommate!” Maryam said.

“That’s what I mean by too ‘forward’!”

Sonya remained defiantly under her blankets.

She had wanted to rest after the mission, and even secured permission to do so from the Lieutenant, who headed straight to her bunk herself. Now the prospect of resting was furthest from her mind. Her room had been invaded by a certain cuttlefish. And that cuttlefish was bringing a bag of clothes she got from the quartermaster into the room.

“Sonya, can you come move this bear?”

Maryam asked this quite innocently.

“Why?”

“I can’t move it, or can I?”

Sonya snapped. “No! Don’t touch Comrade Fuzzy.”

She threw off her blankets and stood up from her bed.

Dressed only in a pair of shorts and an undershirt, she was quite unprepared for visitors, but Maryam should not have been there, so it was too late to lament her wardrobe choice. She stomped past the Sister with her fists closed at her sides and carefully brought Comrade Fuzzy up into her arms, before stomping back across the room and hiding with him under her blankets once more. She put her back to Maryam and grunted.

Maryam watched without expression and then giggled at her.

“I knew it was special. It gave off your aura. It is very well cared for.”

Sonya’s eyes drew wide under the blankets, but she did not respond.

“I didn’t want to touch it without your permission.”

“Okay.”

She was in no mood to say, ‘thank you for being understanding.’

Though no longer looking at her, Sonya could hear Maryam shuffle over to the other bunk and unfurl her bag of clothes on top of it. Then her locker slid open. She was putting her stuff away. While she did so, she hummed a tiny little tune. Sonya could not help but imagine it in her mind’s eyes. The purple-haired, pink-skinned cuttlefish in her black dress, skipping around. Those tentacles coming from the rear sides of her head wiggling around.

“At what times do you get up and go to sleep?” Maryam asked.

Sonya sighed. She really was just going to hash out the entire arrangement right then.

“0600 to 1800 at the ready, sleep at 2100 hours.”

“I can do that. I don’t want to disturb you. You have a really important job after all!”

“Okay.”

Sonya successfully avoided saying more than one syllable at a time to Maryam for hours.

That also meant, however, that despite her best efforts, she talked with Maryam for hours.


“Hubby! Aww, look at you, rough day?”

Karuniya entered the shared room and instantly found Murati, whom she continued to cheerfully dub her “husband,” lying down on the bed drawn out of the left wall of their room. She had a pillow over her face. Too weary to say anything, Murati merely grunted in acknowledgment from under the pillow. Then she heard footsteps.

She could see a shadow fall over what little light she saw from under the pillow.

“Get up for a little bit, make room.”

Murati felt Karuniya’s hands patting her on the shoulder.

Without giving it much thought, she pulled the pillow off her face and wearily sat up.

Then, Karuniya sat beside her, grabbed hold of her head, and pulled her back down.

“There. Isn’t that better? Just like the picnics we used to have at the Academy.”

A lap pillow: Murati’s head now rested atop Karuniya’s warm thighs.

She looked up at her girlfriend, her eyes weary. A trickle of tears drew from them.

“You can talk to me, you know?” Karuniya said, stroking Murati’s forehead.

“I got back from my mission.”

“I know.”

“It was– it was tough, Karu. I just need a moment to rest.”

“You know, I’m going to be upset with you if that’s all you end up saying.”

Karuniya looked down at Murati, smiling, her fingers running softly over Murati’s hair.

“I told you that I am quite done with your whole strong, silent type posturing.”

At her girlfriend’s behest, Murati stopped fighting back her tears and putting up a front.

She lifted her arm and put the back of her fist over her eyes, weeping openly into her gloves.

“I hate that you’re hurting, Murati. But I’m happy you’re being honest about it.”

Karuniya’s hands felt so warm over her head. Murati almost felt that she didn’t deserve it.

“I’m here to comfort you, no matter what happened. So please let me in.”

“I just feel really helpless. I feel like I don’t know what we’re supposed to do here.”

Murati finally spoke up, raising her voice through a particularly violent sob.

“People are going to keep dying here. We can never save them all. And who knows if we’ll even be able to save any? Why would they help us at all? How could they possibly see this one ship and think it’s going to change anything? Against the enormity of what the Empire has built? They just dispose of their people so easily. It’s so monstrous.”

As a soldier, Murati had always been confident that she could win battles against enemies provided she had the resources: weapons, allies, solid intelligence, and the ability to move. But in the Empire, the enemy she was up against was not just soldiers with ships and divers. This was a whole society that was unleashing violence on multiple levels. Murati felt such immense pain in her heart from staring at the injustices of the Empire and not being able to do a damned thing about it. She felt that she had lost a battle that day, and it shook her faith in their ability to win a war.

Maybe the Brigand could kill Imperial soldiers. Maybe it could kill scores of them.

But their mission was not simply to engage and kill Imperial soldiers like in a normal war.

They were supposed to build a resistance against the Empire to help them fight.

How could they do so with one ship?

How could they do it if all they could do was kill soldiers?

Killing soldiers and destroying ships wasn’t going to save the downtrodden of the Empire.

Not by itself.

And if not the common people of the Empire, who was going to fight alongside them?

Murati felt herself falling down a spiral of hopeless thoughts until her fiancé spoke up once more.

“You know, there’s something about me I never really told you.” Karuniya said.

Murati lifted her hand off her face to look at Karuniya. Her eyes were red and puffy.

“I can’t imagine what it could be.”

Karuniya smiled knowingly. “You know, Murati, I love you more than anything in the world. I love you more than my own ambitions, and more than my own beliefs. So that’s why some stuff was not worth saying.”

She winked at Murati, who failed to understand what her fiancé was getting at.

“I really don’t follow, but now I’m getting kinda anxious Karu.”

“You don’t have to be. It’s really silly. But I really used to be afraid you’d be mad if I told you.”

“Could you come out with it and stop dragging it out?” Murati pleaded.

Karuniya giggled. “Sure. It’s about a line of theory that was suppressed by the Union.”

“What? What do you mean ‘theory’? What kind of theory? Karu, talk to me.”

Was Karuniya about to confess to being a capitalist or something?

That was the last thing Murati needed to hear on this rotten day!

“Okay, I’ll just tell you then. I had a professor when I was a teenager, who was exiled from the Empire to the Union for his beliefs on environmental conservation. Truth be told, he wasn’t much liked for the same reason in the Union. He believed that agarthic salt concentration was anthropogenic and rising, which is a bit of a doomsday prophecy.”

Murati let out a loud, heavy sigh. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Ah, well, I’m glad you disagree with Union environmental policy writ large.”

“Everyone thinks I’m some kind of zealot. There’s a lot about the Union I disagree with.”

“Name one thing, honey.”

Murati grumbled.

“What’s this theory of yours? Tell me the whole story and stop teasing me.”

Karuniya’s stroking became slower as she lost herself in thought.

“Let’s see, where can I start? I think I was still in preparatory school thinking about what I wanted my career to be. I studied introductory oceanography under Dr. Hans Wadzjik. I must have been fifteen; it was before we met. He never taught according to curriculum. There would always be fights between him and the Education commissar at Lvov Station, where I used to live. But his classes were really fun, and his ideas felt really convincing to me. He was stuck teaching in preparatory school because his life’s thesis, about agarthic salt in the Ocean, was too radical. Even the Union did not want these ideas to gain too much purchase. The Union has a dark side too; Dr. Wadzjik was always being censured. They didn’t throw him in jail or anything. But they made life just a little bit harder for him.”

“He should have stuck to the curriculum then.” Murati said callously.

Karuniya laughed. “Ah, there’s the Murati that I know and love!”

“What? He’s supposed to prepare kids for the Academy, not impart personal ideology.”

“You’d make such a horrible teacher Murati.” Karuniya said, her voice gentle and fond.

It was as if she found Murati’s attitude charming and cute. Her tone was quite annoying.

“Explain what his theory is in full and maybe I’ll agree.” Murati said.

“Okay. Basically, the activity of agarthic reactors and agarthicite mining is giving off an increase in agarthic salt in the ocean water. Agarthic salt is microscopic agarthic matter: basically the tiniest specks of dust, unable to react meaningfully. We used to believe that deposition from the surface, trickling down the water table, was responsible, but Dr. Wadzjik believed that human activity in the Ocean itself was actually responsible for the increase in Agarrhic content in the Ocean’s water table. He spent his life building as much solid evidence for this as he could. No one wanted to hear that, of course. Agarthicite is so important for our lives down here after all.”

“Without those reactors, we wouldn’t have stood a chance for survival.” Murati said.

“True, and it’s not even the station reactors that are the main culprit. It’s the inefficient miniature reactors on ships that are the problem. They’re built smaller and cheaper than Core Pylons at the cost of longevity and fuel efficiency. So of course, neither the Empire nor the Union wants to hear about this sort of thing. But I was fascinated by it. And I do believe it’s true! When I entered the Academy I swore that in my current thesis, I want to package his scholarship in a way the Union will listen to. He had one other belief that was a little too radical for anyone, as well.”

“More radical than the rest?” Murati drew up her eyebrows.

Karuniya laughed a little bit.

“He predicted in 200 years that we’d see the Calamity under the Ocean.”

“What? That’s just mad. Do you believe that Karu? The Calamity, again, down here, in 200 years?”

“No, I don’t believe it. I think the conditions under which he grew up in the Empire colored his perceptions. He was a bit of a misanthrope and a fatalist. For agarrhic salt to start reacting on its own, without human intervention to deliberately blow up the Ocean, it would take a truly insane level of salinity. Even when we try to make Agarrhic salts react, the reactions are tiny; there was a case where a red tide occurred during a black wind in Katarre, the most polluted place in the Ocean. In that case, the survey ship was coring the earth for Agarrhic deposits when it struck. The ship that recorded this event suffered extremely minor instrument degradation. So no, it won’t become a Calamity. At least, not in 200 years, at current conditions. Of course, things could become suddenly worse.”

She looked down at Murati with a cute smile, stroking her hair.

Murati sighed. Why was she telling her all of this now? It didn’t really matter.

In fact, the Lieutenant was mostly annoyed that Karuniya hid all this out of some irrational fear.

“I wouldn’t have said anything about this, you know? Are you that afraid of me?”

“I’m not afraid of you at all. I didn’t tell you this because it didn’t really matter.”

“If it’s something you’re passionate about, it matters to me. I wish I had known.”

“I’m passionate about conservation. That’s just one tiny aspect of it. That’s my point.”

Murati frowned. “You’ve neglected to make this point of yours at all, during any of this.”

“I was getting to it.” Karuniya puffed her cheeks and lifted her hand from Murati’s head.

“Well, sorry for being so annoying then, I guess.”

Karuniya laid her hand back down on Murati’s hair and ruffled it very harshly.

“My point, you blunt, stubborn, tragic fool, is that you can’t just give up because the problem is too large for you by yourself! I can’t save the Ocean by myself, but I want to promote and advance the science of Conservation to teach others to do their part, and maybe, slowly, budge society in the right direction with regards to our environment.” Murati blinked. Karuniya’s voice grew impassioned, so much that she herself started to weep just a little and started wiping her tears periodically. “If we feel helpless, the world doesn’t get better for our inaction. The Union Naval HQ didn’t see the Brigand and think ‘this will be useless because it can’t destroy every Imperial fleet by itself.’ They saw the larger battle of which we are a part and decided to act. You should know that! We can’t save everyone; but that’s no excuse for giving up. Even if all we can do is give the Empire a black eye, that in itself is not a useless undertaking.”

She raised a hand to her own face and wiped her tears.

“I think the Murati who pursues justice at any cost and never lets anything go, is really admirable and really sexy and really cute! That’s the woman I fell in love with. When you set your mind to it you keep trying, doggedly, standing in front of the same apathetic crowd again and again even if the outcome doesn’t change. You did it in the Academy, you did it in your military career, and I want you to keep doing it. That’s what I admire about you. And it makes me feel emboldened to take my own crazy ideas in front of people who don’t care. That’s it; that’s my whole point.”

Murati looked up at her fiancé as if seeing her in a new light. Was this something about Karuniya she had overlooked this whole time? She felt monumentally stupid for a moment, both deeply touched and deeply ashamed. She recalled when Karu teased her about being neglectful. Had she ever expressed to Karuniya this level of passion, of admiration?

“I’m sorry for making you sad, Karu. I seem to keep doing that.” Murati said.

“Don’t be sorry! I’m not crying because I’m sad.” Despite the presence of ever more tears, Karuniya continued to wipe her eyes frequently. Her lips slowly curled into a smile again. “I’m so happy that I’m here with you. I always thought that our careers would break us apart one day. I wanted us to be able to pursue our dreams together some day.”

“I could have stayed with you.” Murati said. “I could have left the Navy.”

“No, absolutely not. Because the woman I love doesn’t turn her back on her ambitions. All I want is for you to keep your chin up, and if you can’t take the pain, to please, please, come to me. I’m here for you. I want to be part of what makes you strong. And you don’t even know the degree to which you are part of what makes me strong too.”

Her words hung in the air for a moment. She looked down at Murati, locking eyes.

“I feel like you’re confessing to me all over again.” Murati said warmly.

“Think of it as my long overdue vows then.” Karuniya said, wiping more fresh tears.

Murati sat up from Karuniya’s lap and turned around on the bed to face her.

She took Karuniya’s hands in her own and looked deep into her eyes with determination.

Drawing out all of the feelings that she had trouble giving form to: her own vows.

“Karuniya, I admire you too. You’re so important to me!” She said. “You always felt so strong and casually confident. Like you knew you’d get anything you wanted. So maybe I haven’t been putting in the effort for you, from my end. Maybe I have been neglecting you. Ever since I met you, I wanted to be a part of your life. And I do want us to be able to pursue our dreams while having a home with each other. I’m sorry I’m telling you this on a fucking warship.”

“Sounds like we both need to practice that whole ‘openness’ thing more often.” Karuniya smiled.

“I guess so. But you know… there was always language we shared that we both understood.”

Murati took Karuniya, pulled her in and suddenly kissed her.

She seized her with such fervor that she stumbled over her in bed. Not one more word was said. Their eyes locked together, and the pair followed their hearts and bodies, laughing in each other’s faces, fumbling with each other’s shirts, kissing on the lips, on the neck, biting, clawing, breathing heavy with the weight of their passion.


Marina knocked on the door to the room but let herself in without waiting for recognition.

Not that Elena wanted to say anything to her.

When she saw who was at the door, she curled back up in her bunk and turned her back. On the floor, her coat and pants lay discarded. She had thrown herself to bed in her bodysuit alone. Covered up with the blankets, she wanted nothing more than to sleep for months, maybe years. To sleep until she couldn’t tell sleep from this nightmare.

“Settling in?” Marina asked with a sweetness Elena read as forced.

Marina stepped in and the door closed. Elena made a low, irritated noise in response.

She had stood for about an hour in the hall while Marina talked with the Captain.

Then the Captain returned, introduced herself briefly, and took her things to another room.

Elena finally got to lie down and had five minutes of peace before Marina barged in.

The more she thought about everything happening to her, the angrier Elena became.

Her feet hurt. She felt like she had never walked so much in her life without having a soft bed to settle into. The bunks in this ship were not the same. Everything seemed to be filled with a stiff gel, from the mattress to the pillows. Back in Vogelheim her pillows and her bed were feather-soft and held her body with perfect amount of resistance. Such a simple thing, and even that was denied to her in current predicament. She almost wanted to cry about it.

And she felt stupid for that. Stupid, small, helpless, unable to do anything for herself.

“I have to get a medical evaluation on the Captain’s orders. I’ll be back later.”

“Why?”

Elena turned around briefly to look at her self-styled guardian’s face as she responded.

Why would they care about Marina’s health? They would be gone in a few days, right?

That ‘why?’ seemed to go through Marina like a knife. Her face grew sullen.

“Shit. How do I explain this?”

“Explain what? Explain fucking what Marina?”

Curse words just tumbled out of Elena’s royal lips now. Maybe Marina’s influence.

Elena had become practiced in pinning every problem on that woman’s influence.

Marina sighed audibly. She covered her face with one hand.

“We’re not going to the Union anymore. The Brigand has a different mission–”

“Ugh. Whatever. I don’t even care anymore. Just go away and let me sleep then.”

After a sharp pang of anger all Elena felt was a hole in her chest, as if sucking in air.

She turned her back on the door again and covered herself in the stiff blankets.

“Tell me when we’ve arrived wherever we’re supposed to be.”

She heard a foot stomp on the room floor.

“Elena, I’m really not in the mood for your fucking attitude. You better start shaping up.”

Oh? Gears started spinning in the princess’ head and heart.

“Yeah? So what? Are you going to knock me out again? Stuff me in a crate?”

Elena gritted her teeth under her blankets. She let herself steep in hating Marina.

 “I’m strongly considering it.” Marina grunted.

There was a little, pathetic victory swelling in the heart of the lost Princess.

She had hurt Marina finally. Finally pierced through her shitty little armor.

She could feel it. Radiating from Marina like a cursed fire.

“I’m not scared of you.”

“Elena–”

“I just have to touch your bare skin; you’ll go down crying like a baby again.”

“Elena!”

“It’s Elen, stupid, don’t blow my cover, especially if we’re going to be here longer.”

Marina’s breathing grew heavier and more audible.

“I can’t believe you. You ungrateful– I’ve done nothing but protect you–”

“Looking for a reward? You won’t get one from me. I don’t have anything anymore.”

“If your mother could see you like this–”

“Shut up about my mother! Just go get your head checked already.”

In an instant she heard the door slide open and closed again behind her.

All of this was Marina’s fault. And Marina didn’t even care about her anyway.

Your mother this; your mother that. Every other word out of her mouth was about Elena’s mother. If she was doing all this for Elena’s mother, well, that woman was dead. Elena barely remembered her. Certainly, Elena was not doing a goddamned thing for her mother’s sake. Her mother abandoned her in Vogelheim to be an accessory to the Emperor’s family gatherings. Had Marina even once said she was doing anything for Elena’s own sake alone? She couldn’t recall.

“I hate you. Just leave me alone.” She mumbled to herself, tears swelling in her eyes.

She did not want to say another word to Marina ever again.


Previous ~ Next

The Day [4.7]

“Victoria, what are you talking about?”

Elena hardly knew what to say, think or do.

Amid the trees of Vogelheim, suddenly the falsest element of her landscape had become the face of her cat-eared childhood friend, reappearing after years of absence. What did she mean it wasn’t safe for her? How could she possibly know anything after all this time? And it was absurd to think Elena would simply go with her. To where?

Was she plotting to take her back to the Duchy of Veka?

Furthermore, that surname, van Veka. It made Elena fear for what may have happened to Victoria. She had heard a lot of things about the eccentricity of Duchess von Veka, ruler of her family’s ancestral holding, the Duchy of Veka. To the heartland Imbrians of Rhinea, Skarsgaard and the Palatinate, the land of Veka was a wild frontier, and its aristocracy were often viewed as exotic foreigners in the court. Elena fell to such prejudices:  she easily believed the stories of Veka as a wild, rapacious witch. What if Victoria had been abducted? What if she was being coerced into doing this?

“You weren’t at my party last night because Gertrude would have objected to all of this.”

Victoria sighed openly at Elena’s response, as if it were the dumbest thing in the world.

She lifted a hand to Elena, but it was not in offering.

Instead, she closed her fingers as if she were trying to squeeze Elena’s head from afar.

Her eyes glowed red, with bright rings around the pupils. Normally– they were blue.

Was this all a delusion? Was Elena truly seeing such a thing transpire?

Elena felt a breeze blow by the two of them.

This was not a dream. It was really happening.

She was taken aback. She thought she felt something brush her shoulder.

What was Victoria doing?

Elena could almost see it.

A projection, a dim, translucent aura, scarcely real–

Victoria lowered her hand. She looked, for the first time, to be worried.

“You resisted it? But you came here, so you answered my suggestion.”

“Your suggestion? What are you talking about?”

Elena remembered something then. Her dream.

She had dreamt of Victoria’s parting.

Back then, had Victoria really said they would meet again?

Had that part happened?

She wracked her memory. Suddenly, she could not remember the specifics.

But it was insane to think that Victoria had made herself appear in her dreams.

What was Victoria doing?!

“Victoria, I need you to talk like a person right now, or I’m calling for help.”

She wanted to believe that Victoria was merely confused.

Her friend had always been bad at speaking. In school she used to be shy and reserved. Others would call her cold and attribute this to her being a Shimii. But Elena had seen her when she opened up. Victoria could be kind and expressive in her own way. Elena hoped she could appeal to this better nature. Maybe even help Victoria out of whatever trouble she was in.

She extended her hand.

Victoria, blue-eyed again, briefly flinched as if she expected to be struck from meters away.

But Elena simply wanted to reach out a hand for her friend to hold.

“I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re in, but I can help you.”

Elena intended her words to carry her conviction, her sympathy.

Victoria, however, just seemed annoyed with her.

Her tail dipped low and started flicking.

“I’m here to help you. There’s nothing you can do, Elena. That’s the problem.”

Her words carried no venom. They were blunt and matter of fact, like when she was a child.

“Of course I can help you! I’m the Imperial princess!” Elena said.

Even she, however, no longer believed that mattered. And Victoria certainly didn’t.

“Times are changing.” Victoria said. “A lot has changed already, as a matter of fact.”

“Victoria, this is frustrating. You’ve always been difficult to talk to, but you’re so cryptic I can’t even understand you. Just come to the Villa and have tea with me.” Elena said, pleading.

Victoria shook her head. “I don’t require accommodations. As it is, I’m not far enough ahead of Sawyer. Look, I’m anxious too Elena! I don’t want to force you to do anything, but I will have to if you don’t make up your own mind to come with me. Gertrude will not make it back in time. Nobody is here to rescue you except this one right here. So come with me, now.”

Something in Elena’s head simply snapped the wrong way at that time.

To the princess, everything Victoria was saying was nonsense. It was sudden, it was insane, and it simply did not fit with anything Elena knew. She was not in danger. Vogelheim could not be in danger. Vogelheim was her sacred home; her brother’s home for her. Her brother had always protected her, and her brother was the strongest man in the Empire, the most respected. Nobody could target Vogelheim. Nobody would even try.

They all understood how impossible that was.

So Elena’s logic threw everything Victoria was saying right out.

She quieted a tiny screaming voice that was telling her to run, to hide, to do anything.

Instead, Elena smiled charmingly, tipped her head, put her hands behind her back.

“I know what’s up.” She said in a funny little voice. “Vicky, you still have a crush on me.”

Victoria, for a moment, put on an expression like she couldn’t believe she heard that.

Elena, however, continued to pile on what she viewed as friendly, teasing charm.

She really, for a moment, thought she had everything figured out.

That she had seen through a mild deception, and everything around her was still normal.

“You and Gertrude fought over me back in school. I kind of– I kind of realized that, but I didn’t want to believe it. You know, for a while, I had a crush on Sawyer; but Gertrude was always there for me, and I came to treasure her most. Vicky, I still love you as a friend. You don’t need to do any kind of stunts to try to get my attention. You must have gone through a lot of effort to become titled, but Gertrude isn’t, and I still hold her as my most precious person, so–”

“Elena, you’re being absolutely, frustratingly ridiculous.”

Victoria swept her hand.

At Elena’s side, the ground burst up into the air, as if something had struck.

As if a massive force had struck–

Something strong enough to make a watermelon-sized dent in the ground.

Elena screeched and drew back from the hole.

She nearly fell backwards in shock. Barely able to stay standing.

Victoria’s eyes had those red rings again.

Red glowing rings around her eyes.

Was Victoria doing this?

What was– Victoria– WHAT WAS VICTORIA DOING?

“You can resist telepathy, but I can just knock you out and take you away.”

Victoria mumbled that almost as if to herself.

Her eyes then returned to their normal blue.

“I got over my infatuation with you. I am not here for that! I am here as your friend because I don’t want to see you killed by the Volkisch, which is what will happen soon Elena!” Victoria was screaming. Elena’s mind was a blur. What was Victoria screaming about? None of what she said made sense. It was almost like Elena was hearing it through a filter. Was she going insane? Victoria saw Elena’s blank eyes and fearful, broken expression, and moderated her tone. “Elena. In all of her graciousness and wisdom, my beloved mistress, the Grand Duchess Carmilla von Veka, signed off on my mission and gave me the resources to come take you to the east. She’s very powerful, Elena; she will keep you safe even if things continue to worsen.”

Elena was not ready to hear that impassioned declaration.

“What do you think is going to happen?” Elena said. She was stammering.

“You know what Sawyer was like! She’s even more dangerous now, Elena!”

“Sawyer?”

It was unimaginable to Elena that not one, but two of her lost childhood friends could possibly return on the same day, with grand pronunciations about their newfound powers. It was so sudden that it simply felt impossible, fake, delusional. Elena would have been assured that she was dreaming, but when Victoria rent the earth next to her, a tiny peddle made a tiny cut on her legs. That cut itched, stung. It itched bad enough that it continued to drag Elena back to her flesh. She was not in a dream.

She was sweating, her head felt airy, her vision was clouded with tears.

Her entire world felt like it was collapsing right on top of her.

“Victoria, you said Sawyer right? Sawyer is coming? Why? Why does she–”

“She thinks Erich is here! Elena, please come with me. We’re out of time.”

“Gertrude will come back– I have to be here for Gertrude to–”

Elena’s mind twisted and wrenched in an entirely different direction.

“She will not make it in time.”

Victoria’s eyes turned red again.

Something grabbed hold of Elena.

She felt a strong, invisible power gripping her, pulling her forward.

Toward Victoria; she squealed and resisted and was barely able to remain standing in place.

It was like the force trying to drag her had an arm that Elena could somehow outmuscle.

Frustrated again, Victoria cried out, “How are you this gifted, and still so powerless?”

Elena finally fell to the ground. Unable to resist, or escape, but Victoria could not pull her.

She started to weep openly, to cry and to scream where she sat.

She was powerless! She could neither understand, deflect nor resist what Victoria told her.

All of Elena’s static little world had made so much sense.

It was the only form of control that she had. Understanding the falsity all around her.

Everything was happening too suddenly, too urgently. Sawyer; Victoria–

“Victoria, I can’t leave here. Gertrude is waiting for me here. Please just leave, Victoria.”

Elena managed to say this between panicked little sobs.

“I can’t leave here. Bethany is here. This is my home, Victoria. It’s safe here, it really is.”

Victoria started to walk toward her. Her eyes were blue again. No red rings.

“Elena you’ve always known this was a cage but you keep choosing to stay here! All of this was built to delude ourselves of what our world is, and now you can’t leave when you need to! But it’s not safe! Six meters beneath this soft bed of earth there is just metal. Maintenance passages for the climate control and water systems, cargo elevators for the port and warehousing, secret passages for your security detail. This place is not impregnable. I snuck in here and I can take you with me in the same way. Sawyer cares even less about this place than me. Sawyer will shoot her way in, Elena!”

She finally reached where Elena was sitting, and physically grabbed her arm.

“Come with me, now.”

“That’s no way to talk to a lady.”

From Victoria’s side came a rushing figure.

Fast enough it took Elena by surprise.

She delivered a kick right to Victoria’s gut and sent her staggering back to the ground.

Then she placed herself in front of Elena with an arm outstretched.

“Thanks for the intel. If this place is unsafe, I will be the one evacuating her highness.”

At first, Elena had a crazy thought that it was Bethany who rescued her.

But nothing matched. Her defender was taller, with a head of black hair, partially in a haphazard bun, bangs partially over one eye. Messy. She was wearing a suit, it seemed. Pants, a sportcoat or a blazer, and a grey bodysuit that was translucent in the front. When she turned briefly toward Elena, her shirt and coat and suit exposed enough of her to see a scar on her chest.

“Marina McKennedy, G.I.A. Princess, I know this will sound crazy, but I’m on your side.”

She cracked a confident smile and drew a pistol on Victoria.

Victoria slowly drew herself up, and wiped dust from her dress.

She was winded, but those red-ringed eyes turned on Marina with the fullness of her malice.

“That’s a cute look.” Marina said. “But you don’t scare me. I’ve fought 2-meter tall Pelagis who could snap my spine in half before.”

“You have no idea. Get out of my way, republican.” Victoria said.

Marine laughed. “I got here in time to catch the gist of the conversation. Let the adults handle it, little girl. If you want to keep Elena safe, all you have to do is leave her to me. But you’re not just here out of altruism, so stop pretending you have Elena’s best interests in mind.”

Elena was so speechless.

She wanted to warn Marina that Victoria had some dangerous power that Marina was likely unaware of, and had not seen, if she arrived at the events unfolding too late. But her entire body refused to move, and her tongue was as trapped in her mouth as all of them were in Vogelheim. She was unable to say anything. All she could do was weep helplessly.

Then, Victoria’s eyes flashed their deadly red again.


Lieutenant Ionu Patrosku sat on the bridge of his Cutter with great trepidation.

He was shaking but could not let anyone know. He was sure he would not get out alive.

He was in command of a Cutter. A Cutter was all a Lieutenant could command.

Cutters were torturously cramped. His command seat was only slightly raised above the gunner, helmsman and torpedo man. All communications and sonar went through his first officer on an adjacent seat. They sat as if in adjacent rows in a cramped little movie theater, but with the roof barely a meter overhead, and the screens not much farther out. It was maddening.

It was a cage. He was going to die screaming in this cage.

These were brand new model cutters too. There was no excuse. Whoever designed these ships simply wanted them to be this way. Armed with one gas gun, one 75mm light coilgun, and one torpedo tube. Barely 60 meters long in total, most of it taken up by the reactor, engines, control surfaces and weapons, carrying no amenities. They were staring down the barrel of an absolutely massive Cruiser and its 150mm heavy coilguns and all their conviction to fight was leaving them.

And yet, the strength of the merciless training they received, was such that they remained rooted in place, knowing they could not hope to win and yet could not run. It was their sacred duty to defend the Palatinate, the holiest of the Empire’s domains. Vogelheim was a backwater, and what this Sawyer character was saying was absolutely insane, but they had to stand their ground.

Patrosku, however, knew differently than most how sacred their duty was.

The Lieutenant was one of the men directly in charge of Vogelheim’s security.

He knew it was the home of Elena von Fueller.

He had been specifically tasked by Erich von Fueller with his sister’s naval defense.

Patrosku knew, more than anyone, that Erich von Fueller was not present to be arrested by these extremist nationalists. And he also knew why they might have such a suspicion. He was not a stupid man. He was putting together the details of what might be happening with Vogelheim.

And he could do nothing anyway. He could only stand his ground in defense.

Even besides the great authority such a man commanded, Patrosku knew firsthand how terrifying the wrath of Erich von Fueller was, and how far it could reach. He almost felt that the Prince would make sure he suffered in hell for failing him, so even if he died, Patrosku could not run from what was expected of him. He might even go after Patrosku’s family and friends.

His compatriots had trusted him to open communications with the Volkisch.

So he stared down their commander on his screen.

He had no choice but to appear strong.

“Heidelinde Sawyer, if you are keen on a peaceful solution then turn your fleet around.” Patrosku replied, to the brown-haired woman on the screen with fiery eyes and words. “Erich von Fueller does not reside in this station. Starting a battle here will get you no closer to him.”

“Of course you are covering for the traitor. You think my conviction is this weak?”

Patrosku braced himself for her to fire. Thankfully, the Cruiser made no moves.

Was she just giving him a chance to respond?

“We are all proud citizens of the Empire. None of us want to fight you or any of our brothers and sisters here.” He said. He thought he had tapped into a font of eloquence and felt confident. “Soon our leaders will convene. Let them render justice and trust their decisions!”

The Volkisch leader, Sawyer, looked thoroughly unamused with his answer.

“Let them render justice? You suggest we allow the tyrant Fueller to convene with the foreigner harlot Veka and all those who have made a mockery of Imbria, and parcel out our homes among themselves, to continue to exploit us and guide us down into ruin? You and I are not both proud citizens! We are the Volkisch of Rhinea, and we will make our own destinies. You can join us, or you stand against us. We have been preparing to fight, and now we are here to do so.”

At that moment, through sound-wave detection, laser imaging and other predictive methods, the computers aboard Patrosku’s Cutter began to yell about some kind of movement coming from the missile frigates. They were beyond visual range, but he did not need to be a genius to know what was happening: the hatches were opening, which meant the missiles were primed.

Sawyer cut off her laser communications abruptly. Every computer sounded alerts.

There was no avoiding it. Hesitating further would mean certain death.

“All ships to combat speed! Target the frigates first, move to isolate the Cruiser!”

Patrosku called out, and the Cutters advanced on the enemy fleet.

Single-barreled light coilguns sought targets and began to fire. Light torpedoes leaped from the tubes at the front of each cutter. Because there were twenty cutters, they managed to whip up a brilliant fusillade for their side, and hundreds of rounds hurtled across the Vogelheim plains toward the enemy. The double-barreled 20mm gas gun turret on each Cutter readied to intercept incoming enemy missiles from the Frigates.

Battle had finally been joined for Vogelheim.

Accelerating, the Cutters sliced the distance to the enemy flotilla.

Before them, the Cruiser stood unflinching as dozens of rounds shot past its flanks.

On the top deck, the main gun rose and adjusted its barrels.

One pair of 150mm coilgun rounds loosed from the gun and punched through the water.

In an instant, one of Patrosku’s allied cutters had its prow disappear in a vapor bubble.

Between the massive forward damage and the shock of the impact, all of the stricken Cutter’s electronics would have failed and it is unlikely the crew inside could survive. As the Cutters advanced, their downed ally descended miserably, trailing bubbles and bits of debris.

“Keep moving! Once we’re on top of it, it will have to surrender!”

Mobbing was the only tactic they could count on against that ship, with their light weapons.

The Cutters advanced in a snaking envelopment, like nineteen fingers trying to wrap around the enemy fleet from all directions. Each individual ship kept enough distance from each other so that no one enemy weapon could destroy multiple ships. They stayed in enough of an orbit to maintain laser communication and coordinate their attacks, while having room to maneuver.

Meanwhile the enemy frigates responded quickly with their own barrage, peppering the Cutters with light coilgun and gas gun fire. Deadly vapor bubbles erupted around the Cutters, signifying the explosions of ordnance. Even being grazed by such a blast would put incredible stress on the hull and could compound into internal damage, and even cause slow breaches.

Vogelheim’s plain took on the eerie characteristic of underwater war.

A storm of vapor bubbles and lines of displaced water formed by explosive ordnance and supercavitating munitions stirred between the opposing sides as they advanced toward each other. Due to the dimness of the ocean, it would have been impossible to see the spectacle of it from afar, but their computers could see the ocean whipped into a frenzy amid all the barrages.

Even with this horrifying chaos before them, the patrol fleet did not slow their charge.

Taking a haphazard trajectory, the speedy little ships made themselves hard to hit, a quality that only they possessed in this engagement. Cutters’ only defense was being able to move around larger ships like the insects that they were. As they advanced they pummeled the enemy with a rhythmic barrage from their little guns. One round, a swift cooldown and drain of the gun housing, a second round; the Cutters sent over a dozen rounds flying at the enemy every minute.

 While the Cruiser was cooling down, the Cutters cut the distance, to 500 meters, 400 meters, 300 meters, swerving and rising and making looping trails of bubbles in the water as they avoided enemy gunfire. Then the Cruiser’s heavy coilgun emplacement was once again ready to fire. Two massive rounds erupted from the barrels; two cavitation lines linked the gun to a cutter.

Upon striking their targets, or even flying near them, the supercavitating rounds detonated.

Underwater, kinetic energy was constantly lost. Even supercavitation designs had limits.

Explosive force, however, was magnified through the medium of the ocean water.

So even the kinetic rounds were rigged with explosives and made to blow.

For a Cutter to suffer two direct hits and the two explosions that followed was unlucky.

Nothing was left of the ship but piles of bubbling slag, sheared beyond recognition.

All of this gunfire, death and mayhem had transpired in mere minutes.

Patrosku barely registered the loss from his command pod. He was gritting his teeth.

On the edges of the Volkisch formation, one of the gun frigates altered its elevation.

“Any ships that can spare a torpedo, hit that Frigate! It moved out of place!”

At his side, a pair of his allied Cutters were able to heed his command.

Two light torpedoes burst from their tubes and soared ahead of the fleet.

Guided by the torpedo gunners in each respective ship, the projectiles snaked through enemy gunfire and exploited a hole in the enemy’s interception fire that had opened when that one Frigate moved suddenly out of formation. In so doing, it had blocked a nearby Frigate’s vital covering fire from its top deck gas guns, and exposed the entire left flank of the Volkisch flotilla.

Both torpedoes swooped past the Cruiser and dove into the sides of the raised Frigate.

Two impacts blossomed into vapor bubbles that rent massive holes in the metal.

More and more plates began to peel from the Frigate’s side due to the sheer pressure.

An entire compartment disgorged crates and equipment and mangled bodies into the ocean.

It was as if the torpedo was a hand reaching into the Frigate’s gut, pulling out the viscera.

There was no more gunfire from that Frigate. It began to list, its engine firing off haphazardly and sending it on a terminal dive into the ocean floor. Around it, the Volkisch flotilla adjusted their positions quickly to avoid the stricken ship. And yet, an opportunity to rout them did not appear. Gas gun fire intensified, and the Volkisch returned to a disciplined formation.

Once more, the Cruiser at the head opened fire.

This time, the shells flew past their intended targets.

Not too far past.

Detonating right behind one of the Cutters, the vapor bubble grazed an engine.

Patrosku felt his own Cutter shake, and for an instant thought himself dead.

Such was the sheer explosive power of both shells detonating so close by.

He survived; the Cutter on his direct right lost its engines and became a sitting duck.

It was not long before the Gun-Frigates noticed.

Relentless gunfire tore the stranded Cutter apart where it stood motionless.

Patrosku thought claiming that Frigate kill would have given them momentum.

In truth, the situation remained the same. And it was about to worsen.

Within 200 meters, or two or three ship lengths of the enemy, the Cutters began to put themselves into position to sweep through the enemy formation, and come out behind them, around their flanks, and above them, ultimately enveloping the enemy. At this range, their instruments gave them a form of visibility using predictive imaging. Though they could not “see” physically farther than maybe 75 meters, their computers created a picture from other forms of sensory data.

As such, when Patrosku “saw” what was about to happen next, it was all on the computer.

And for an instant, he disbelieved it. Predictions were not flawless, and what separated a seasoned veteran of undersea warfare from a rookie was not relying on instruments but using them as a tool. So Patrosku trusted his gut that what was happening ahead of him was impossible.

He was wrong, and the computer was right, and he discovered this very quickly.

Objects began to appear as emerging from the hatches on the missile frigates.

Though the computers identified these as Volker class Divers, Patrosku felt it had to be a glitch. Volkers rising out of missile launch bays was ridiculous.

Would Volkers even fit inside them?

Obviously, those were the missiles. Missile Frigates carried slim, fast torpedoes powered by rockets that launched overhead and then arced down. They were not guided by wire, but they were fast and disruptive and provoked an answer whenever they were fired.

So Patrosku answered.

“We need a curtain of fire to intercept those missiles! Now!”

“Sir, those are Divers, the computer is saying–”

“I know what it’s saying! Curtain fire, now!”

The Cutters responded to the predicted incoming missiles — until a squadron of five Volkers swam into their formation.

Just as a Cutter was lighter and faster than any other ship, a Diver was lighter and faster than a Cutter. Dashing through the water with a grace seemingly mismatched with their rounded chassis, the Volkers suddenly skirted the rapid-fire gas guns on the Cutters and brought to bear their 37mm Sturmgewehr assault rifles at shockingly close range.

Disciplined, three-round bursts from the assault rifles punched holes the size of a fist into the armor of several of the Cutters. Alarms sounded, and exposed compartments were locked quickly, with the Cutters’ automated self-repair deploying emergency sealants to close the gaps and bind the armor together enough to resist pressure again. But Cutters were so small that these disruptions ended up disabling several systems and rendering the limping ships unable to fight.

Suddenly, the battle was hopeless again as the patrol fleet fell into complete disarray.

To think, the Volkisch contrived such a way to deploy Divers!

Patrosku watched in terror as amid the barrage from the Flotilla, several Volkers charged right past the patrol fleet and headed straight for Vogelheim. His computer calculated at least fifteen Divers deployed, maybe twenty. There was no hope of stopping them anymore.


Sturmbannführer Hiedelinde Sawyer stood on a raised platform in the middle of the bridge of the battlecruiser Greater Imbria, arms crossed, her chair empty right behind her. They had lost the Venable and who knew how many souls aboard, but the Volkisch were not deterred so easily by loss.

Once the battle was won they could mount a rescue operation.

Sawyer was confident in her plan. And she knew the leadership was behind her. Lehner had personally given his approval for her mission.

Greater Imbria and its crew, as well as the two missile frigates Gladius and Spartan, had professional staff who had been turned to the side of the national proletariat by agents of the Volkisch. They had essentially defected from the Imperial Navy to join the Volkisch. But the gun Frigates were staffed by militia and the vessels were fresh out of Rhineland Shipyards.

Sawyer knew who she could and could not rely upon.

“Order the Divers to attack! I want a squadron to defend us, another to secure the station exterior and two squadrons to enter the station. All groups be careful when firing your weapons!”

As she said this, one of the gun frigates discharged a volley of 75 mm coilgun rounds that flew straight through the enemy Cutters and past.

It was impossible to tell whether damage had been done to the station, but Sawyer grit her teeth. Telling them to stop firing was not an option, but the undisciplined gunners might do more harm than good.

She had to get a hold of the situation.

“Tell the Frigates to mind their guns! We can’t damage the station!”

“We should moderate our own fire as well.”

Her yelling attracted the attention of the First Officer, returning from doing rounds around the ship to inspect the combat stations. She put on a little grin as she arrived. Sawyer glanced over to her when the door opened and then turned back around to continue following the battle on the monitors. She hopped up onto the island in the middle of the bridge and patted Sawyer on the shoulder. “We’ve taken minor damage, mostly to the armor.”

“I knew I could count on you to move fast, but even I’m impressed.”

Sawyer had sent her to check the hangar and weapons when the battle started.

For her to have returned in a few minutes was extraordinary considering the ship’s size.

“I didn’t have to go too far. I have these, remember?”

Sawyer barely looked at her while she spoke, but that remark prompted her to glance at her first officer. Holding the rank of Untersturmführer in the Volkisch, her name was Rue Skalbeck. She was a fit young woman, blond hair decorated with red highlights, wearing a pristine, all-black uniform much like Sawyer’s. She was neither as tall, nor as strong as Sawyer but the closest physical match to her on the ship. Her most distinctive feature, however, were the cybernetics on her body, a pair of black antennae the width and length of a finger along the sides of her head.

Those implants helped correct deformities in her brain, and allowed her to interface easily with machines, as well as perform some often-forgotten tasks of electronic warfare that were usually delegated to algorithms and subroutines of the computers automatically. There were some strains of Volkisch ideology that balked at people such as Rue being allowed to serve, or even to live; but for Sawyer, military power and potential was everything, and Rue was strong enough. It was the fact that she would kill for the National Proletariat that made her a peer member of it.

Her relationship with Rue exemplified the essence of the Volkisch modus.

It was the barest simplicity in the world. There were those who deserved, or indeed, who had to be killed, and those who would kill them, for the volk to survive. Other fringe theories aside, it was this strand of thought that unified the Volkisch. At the present, they agreed on who had to be killed to protect the future of the National Proletariat, and its core in Rhinea.

Sawyer would end Erich von Fueller’s reign here.

And perhaps commence her own.

One step at a time; dialing back from that bloodthirsty series of thoughts, Sawyer merely smiled. “Sometimes I forget that you have those bits.” She said, looking Rue in the eyes.

“That’s kind of you. I knew you were sweet for me.”

Rue put on an antagonistically cheerful expression, full of mockery.

Sawyer stopped looking at her at that point.

Before joining the Volkisch Movement, Rue outranked her in the Imperial Navy.

Within the Volkisch she was the equivalent of a Leutnant due to her “physical deformity.”

Not that you could tell that cheerful, pretty girl was “deformed” without a lot of ideology.

“Did you beam the instructions over to the entry team?” She asked.

“Taken care of a long time ago. The Entry Team is already past the enemy fleet.”

“Good. Do you think those blueprints were authentic?”

“You’ve asked me this three times.”

“Answer a fourth time then, Untersturmführer.”

Rue rolled her eyes. She could do this precisely because of Sawyer’s constant tough girl act. She really wasn’t even looking at Rue and couldn’t have seen her expressions behind her.

“Yes, I fully believe in their integrity. I know you’d punch me in the face if I did things half-assed, so of course I wouldn’t show you any bullshit. As soon as I scraped the contents of the leaks off the network, I compared similar station diagrams which are public. Vogelheim is just another NewType-Castle Mod. IV station. Since the similarities are so exact, the differences must be the real deal, or else, structurally, the diagram wouldn’t make any sense in comparison.”

“I’m counting on you.” Sawyer said.

“Yes, I’m the degenerate, subhuman brain to your ubermenschen brawn.”

“Oh, shut up. You chose to be here.”

“I do it all for you, my love.”

Rue blew a kiss behind her back, but Sawyer didn’t see it.

In the stations around them, the men and women looked briefly concerned.

But it was far, far above their station to say anything.

Sawyer sighed openly but gave no response to the love-comedy Rue was putting on.

Rue took notice and sighed herself. She then changed the subject.

“At any rate, you’re overlooking the piece of information that can’t be corroborated.”

“The presence of Erich von Fueller, you mean?” Sawyer said. Rue smiled.

“According to the leaks, Vogelheim has been the home slash prison of Elena von Fueller for the past several years. She could be anywhere, so it doesn’t really matter, but Erich von Fueller’s visit coinciding with her birthday is time sensitive. For all we know, he came and went already, or he never came at all. That’s information that we are basically just gambling on.”

Sawyer hadn’t really thought of that name in a long time.

Elena von Fueller.

She remembered that bitchy elf girl from Luxembourg who drew together a band of other weirdos who fit in nowhere else. Self-absorbed, and stubborn, and sickeningly kind, never wanting to see the faults in others. And yet, she was not popular at the school. Nobody else wanted to deal with her and her baggage; everyone else was terrified of her. So she had no one in the world, but Sawyer; and her other two “friends,” Victoria and Gertrude.

Gertrude: that bitch never saw eye to eye with her.

Another nasty name to remember.

Sawyer almost felt a grim satisfaction at being able to potentially snatch something from Gertrude.

Elena was useless in and of herself but could be an asset with the nobles.

Rue shrugged, continuing to speak. “So really, this could all just be tragically pointless.”

“It’s not pointless.”

Sawyer replied brusquely. Rue took note of her tone and checked herself.

“Someone had to make the first move. We’re making an example. We can attack deep into the Palatinate’s territory. Those useless aristocrats will have to take us seriously after today and come to terms with our uprising. We will make them see that nobody can protect them anymore.”

Rue grinned at her.

“Will you break the taboo then? Take down the whole station as a show of force?”

“Of course not.”

Sawyer snapped back. Something like that was unthinkable.

Living space in the Imbrium was precious. Destroying a station was an unholy act.

For Rue to even consider it showed her utter morbidity of character.

But also why Sawyer treasured her as a companion.

Rue, ultimately, was her kind of crazy.

“We’re going to claim this station, minimize damage–”

“Then we should restrain our violence. Sawyer, the main gun–”

At that point both of them were interrupted. Both by a shouting voice and a screen.

“Heavy coilgun ready to fire again, Sturmbannführer!” shouted a gunnery officer.

“What are you waiting for then? Fire at will! Destroy those patrol cutters!”

“Sawyer, wait–”

Before Rue could explain herself further, the main operations screen displayed a prow-facing camera that briefly showed high-definition footage of the main gun firing. Two projectiles launched carving neat, symmetrical lines into the water around them. Quickly the screen switched from the camera view to a broader view which was not possible underwater with cameras: it was an algorithmic reconstruction of the battlefield, rendered to enable them to “see” the battle.

Water was displayed as a pale blue filter over a world of floating objects, and these objects were outlined within so that they were crisp and easy to perceive out to several hundred meters — if only real water was anything like that! In areas where an explosion had gone off the water was darkened or reddened, using sensor data to show the intensity of the explosion or how recently the water was disturbed in the wake of a fading blast. It was like watching the world through the eyes of a God with mastery over the ocean. Like seeing through air instead of water. Hundreds of lines split the water, representing the trajectories of the shells being exchanged. Divers rushing to destroy enemy ships at close range and enemy ships fighting them were all marked for the viewer.

They could see the terrifying fusillade raging between their fleets in all of its glory. On camera, only the closest explosions registered. You could die before you ever saw what killed you. You might see the projectile a split second before it smashes into the deck. Sawyer and Rue were both used to staring at these screens, and so was anyone who was a veteran of aquatic combat.

“Sawyer, the main gun alignment is off!” Rue finally said.

“What? How did it–?”

On the algorithmic display, the digital “camera” that was once placed so as to mimic a real camera watching the ocean from the prow of the ship, pulled out into an “overhead” view that was impossible with any cameras they had deployed. This view showed the topography, predicted trajectories of enemy and allied ships, divers, and of course, all of the ordnance travelling between.

Both the rounds fired from the main gun appeared quickly on this view.

An alert then sounded. Something had misaligned. A shot had “missed.”

One round carved into the side of an enemy Cutter and split the ship in half.

A red bubble was placed around the second round to alert Sawyer of the problem.

That second 150mm round was predicted to fly past the enemy to strike Vogelheim.

According to the computer it would climb and detonate on the station pillar’s outer layer.

A breach was predicted: sizable enough that it would need a containment response.

There would be no response. Wireless communication was short distance underwater. They could not contact their entry teams to tell them. And the entry teams would be fighting the guards and engineers at Vogelheim, preventing them from responding. It would be a disaster.

At the speeds that they were dealing with, by the time Sawyer and Rue fully viewed the alert on the screen, if the prediction was correct, the munition had already hit Vogelheim. Every second precipitated calamity.

And this time, it was not something that they could see or confirm unless they charged ahead. Until they had an entry team tapped into Vogelheim, they could not contact them in any way. All of this had happened without them seeing with no time to respond.

Silence fell upon the bridge for a moment.

Everyone felt the vibrations of an intercepted torpedo, transferring through the floor. It was that silent, silent enough that all the things their loud lives hid from them were suddenly laid bare. There were explosions going off all around them. When they were engaged in work it was easy to forget the sheer hostility that was outside the ship. And yet, now, they were all transfixed. Nobody said a word, and everyone raised their heads from their personal screens to stare at the alerts.

In that moment they had destroyed a station. It was starting to dawn on them.

“Rue, connect us to the Socrates!” Sawyer said suddenly. Socrates was their engineering ship, which had been working on battlefield communications. “If they’ve got the groundline ready, you can tap into the station network and contact the entry team! Get creative, use whatever you can! We have to tell them to check for a breach. Emergency sealant can slow it down!”

Sawyer was gripped in a passion, her eyes fiery, her words loud — but trembling.

Rue could not muster such passion. Almost bleary-eyed, she saluted.

It was an eerie, surreal feeling. To have destroyed a little world without even seeing it.

That was the nature of war under the ocean.


What did it mean when Victoria’s eyes turned red?

Elena could not figure it out.

“I’m not in the business of shooting at girls. I’d like to think of myself as a friend to all girls. So, since you care so much about Elena, just turn around and go. She’ll be safe.”

Marina continued to taunt her.

Elena wished she knew what to do to set things right.

For a moment, there was tense silence between them. Marina had her gun out but wasn’t shooting. Victoria had fully stood up from the ground but was not moving. They were sizing each other up. Marina had obviously discarded any possibility that Victoria could be a threat to anyone but the weak and panicking princess on the ground behind her. She had no weapons to threaten Marina with, while Marina had a pistol.

Victoria was clearly clever; but was she outmatched?

Then Victoria lifted her hand to Marina, who was puzzled by the reaction.

“Stop right now. I’ll shoot your fucking knee. No ballroom dancing for you anymore. I said stop it–!”

Victoria made a pulling motion with her hands, her eyes glowing bright red.

“What the–? I’m not joking you little twerp, I’ll shoot–”

Before Marina could get out another threat, the floor suddenly slipped out from under her.

Something had struck at her feet and shifted the dirt she was standing on.

Marina fell over backwards, almost on top of Elena, who scampered away in shock.

Her gun remained in her hands.

As she hit the ground she raised the weapon.

Then her finger stopped right inside the trigger guard, unable to press down.

Her hand tensed and shook. From a seated position, she had the gun trained on Victoria.

Her hand wouldn’t fire. And it was not her own trepidation.

It was if something was holding her trigger finger.

Victoria twisted her hand in mid-air.

Marina’s whole body tensed up. Her jaw clenched. She choked out words.

“Stop– Stop touching me– Stop–”

In that instant, Elena was suddenly bombarded with sensation.

She understood what Marina was feeling.

She could almost hear what Marina was thinking.

Sparks were flying just under Marina’s skin. She hated being touched; she was afraid of it. So many people had touched her in terribly wrong, terribly painful ways. That traumatic sense of danger she felt whenever someone touched her started to flare up, but nothing was touching her. Elena was not, and Victoria was nowhere near. But something was grabbing her hair, twisting her wrists, squeezing her fingers, stepping on her feet, and forcing her mouth to grit closed.

Elena could almost see it, like millions of little fingers all pressing on her at once.

All of Marina’s senses were firing, screaming.

And so, in turn, did all of Elena’s.

Elena nearly vomited. Her eyes were burning.

She was overwhelmed with empathy for Marina’s overwhelming disgust.

Her eyes started to weep. It wasn’t even her own tears.

They were Marina’s. Tears for Marina’s own unweeping eyes.

And when Elena looked at those eyes, physically, rather than mentally–

Red rings appeared around Marina’s eyes, matching those around Victoria’s.

She was shaking from the peak of her head to the tips of her fingers.

Then, suddenly, Marina’s hand started to move, irrespective of her own wishes.

Her arms and legs were used to stand her body up, despite all of her resistance.

Slowly, trembling, she removed the magazine from her pistol and discarded it.

There was one round in the chamber still.

Victoria dispassionately watched with those frightening eyes as Marina lifted the pistol up to her head, putting the barrel over one of her eyes. Her struggling jaw and tongue made whimpering, terrified noises, but she could not speak, move or resist. She was completely helpless.

Elena had to finally stand.

She could not endure anymore what was happening.

“Victoria! Stop! Please, oh my god, stop!”

Elena rushed from the floor and embraced Victoria, throwing her arms around her.

She could think of nothing else to do. Nothing that would fix what was happening.

She wept openly in Victoria’s shoulders, while the Shimii continued to glare past her.

“Stop it! Please stop! I can’t– I can’t bear to see this! Please! Please! This isn’t you!”

“You’re wrong. This is me. I have the fullness of my faculties.”

Victoria swept her hand. Elena screamed and shut her eyes.

Rather than a bang, she heard a dull thump.

Marina was lifted bodily and thrown back against a tree, where she came to feebly slump.

Victoria’s eyes turned a clear blue color again. Her voice was as cold as ever.

She shoved Elena’s arms from around her, and then grabbed her by the wrist.

“Are you finally going to do what I say?” Victoria asked.

Elena, eyes swollen with tears, her body trembling, gave a despondent nod of the head.  

“I’ll go with you. Please, just don’t hurt anyone here.”

“Fine. For you, I’ll promise I won’t.”

Elena tried to smile, but a sudden report shut out all of her senses.

She heard a discharge so loud that the noise ripped through her stomach.

Victoria’s head bobbed suddenly.

Something splashed on Elena’s chest, on her cheek.

Blood.

A streak of blood.

There was a clatter on the ground behind them.

Marina dropped her empty gun, fell to her side, and started to retch and vomit.

Victoria toppled over.

“No. Please. No. No. No! No–”

Elena sank to her knees next to Victoria’s body and tried to pick her up, to shake her. There was so much blood running down her forehead that it was impossible to see a wound, but Elena was sure she was dead.

Her fingertips could not feel anything anymore, but she was sure all the warmth was draining from Victoria as she held her.

Marina had killed her; she had killed Victoria.

Little Victoria from school who loved books and was quiet and a little cold, and nobody could get along with– except perhaps the forgotten, useless princess, the brusque school bully, and the stuck-up aspiring knight whom fate had brought together and then so suddenly torn apart.

People who had overnight disappeared from her life.

And here, maybe she had a second chance and then– and then everything happened. It was so sudden that Elena’s life had gone from the stasis of her prison in Vogelheim, to recalling the day to day shocks of her school days with her rocky little group and having to reconcile it.

Why was all of this happening? Why now?

What had gone wrong? What could she have done to avert all of this?

You’re really hard to love— had Sawyer been right?

Was all of this Elena’s fault? Her mind was racing through the horrible possibility.

Behind them, Marina was starting to stand on shaking legs.

She appeared almost as shocked at her own actions as Elena was with them.

“God damn it.” She mumbled. She grabbed hold of her own stomach.

Marina stumbled.

She dropped back to her knees, holding herself up by her hands, gagging.

Elena felt the ground shake.

She nearly fell back herself, and she was just sitting.

The quake transferred through her body, from deep in her gut to the tips of her fingers–

Victoria stirred.

Elena looked down at her, eyes drawn wide.

Fresh tears immediately followed.

“Victoria! You’re alive!”

Through the blood that had spilled over them, Victoria opened her eyes.

Staring past Elena, up into the sky overhead.

“It’s failing.” She said, breathlessly.

Again the ground rumbled.

Victoria’s cat-like ears twitched. She raised her hand toward the heavens.

Elena looked up at the sky, following Victoria’s fingers.

Bands of color began to break across the blue sky and its fake clouds.

Something formed that split the firmament. A streak, a crack of visual noise.

There was a brief flash as the sky fully lost its contours.

What was once the sun was revealed to be a complex array of mechanical lights.

All around them, the illusion of a horizon and a sky was fully torn down.

Those massive panels that once created a sky now showed what was really outside.

When the heavens came down, there was only the dim, endless blue of the Imbrium.

Elena could not identify it, but what she was seeing was an algorithmic predictive image of the ocean. That was why she saw in all its vivid horror and glory the massive Cruiser Greater Imbria approaching Vogelheim, surrounded by the shattered and shattering remains of several other vessels which had failed to protect the station and flanked by many other ships and divers.

Her mind was reeling from the sight of her little storybook world coming suddenly down.

Victoria’s voice strained. “You can’t run from this anymore, Elena.”


Unjust Depths

Series 1: The Death March To Buren

Episode 4.7: The Day [[Her Sky Shattered]]

Even if it brings the world to the brink of ruin, you must demand justice.


Previous ~ Next

The Day [4.6]

This chapter contains non-explicit sexual content.

Every soldier dreamed about their beloved on long, lonely voyages.

Gertrude dreamt silently of her feelings for Elena for years.

She expected nothing, knowing the impossible social positions they occupied.

And yet, despite everything, on this one insane, false nightfall in this forgotten island–

Was it actually a dream? Would she wake up in the Iron Lady, alone again?

Gertrude scolded herself internally.

No fantasy could ever measure up to the feeling of lying in bed, holding Elena in her arms, squeezing the princess’ back against her chest. Skin to skin, with nothing between them. Sweating profusely despite the best efforts of the climate control system. Shivering when touched, still tender and sensitive. Gertrude could have never imagined the Princess would have sought her out not just for emotional support but physical pleasure.

She much less imagined that the Princess would reciprocate!

It was a sight, that indigo head of hair enthusiastically exploring between Gertrude’s legs, clumsily returning the affection that Gertrude had given without expecting anything back. The memory would last her a few more years at sea, though hopefully it would not be so long. It could have never been a dream; Gertrude would not have let herself dream it.

“Gertrude.”

Agitated, a little weakened, facing away from Gertrude, the Princess’ voice rose up.

“You’re leaving soon, aren’t you? You’re not staying the night.”

Gertrude held her even tighter.

Elena felt almost diaphanous in her hands. Like she was made of silk.

She had her strengths. She didn’t see herself as weak.

But she was frail, delicate, precious.

In the times that they lived in now she was more vulnerable than ever before.

“I have to go. But I will stay until the very last second I can.”

“Just– just hold me for a bit. If you do that, I’ll last a few more years too, like you said.”

Elena giggled a little. Gertrude was surprised to hear it.

She turned around in Gertrude’s arms, locking eyes with her.

“I’m glad you were my first time.”

She craned her head and kissed Gertrude softly on the lips.

Gertrude laid a hand on Elena’s hair and pulled her head into her chest.

“I’ll let you in on a secret. You were my first too, Princess.”


“Those two remind you of yourself and Leda. That’s why you let her into Vogelheim.”

“Shut up. Don’t bring that up. The Prince made his decision, and so I made mine.”

“So then, it’s true. After all, if you wanted to, you could have stopped her–”

Bethany struck Marina’s bare back with her palm. Marina nearly jumped.

“You don’t get to be cheeky, you whimpering little spoon. Be glad I’m this kind to you.”

Marina backed into Bethany suddenly.

“Fine, fine. Be tender with me! I can’t ask this of just anyone I seduce, you know?”

“God, I feel so special right now.”

Save for a few indiscretions over the years, Bethany’s sex life was nonexistent.

So, she could not help but actually feel a bit special about Marina.

Not that she would tell the fucking spy those honest feelings.

Moreso than just sex, as good as the sex had been, Marina wanted to be held and comforted, and in a way, that comforted Bethany as well. It had been even longer since she had a lover who stayed the night, who stayed in her bed, with whom she could share a bit of warmth. A lover whose hair she could smell, whose sweat she could taste as she nuzzled her neck. In the same way that Marina could not ask this “of just anyone,” Bethany was also restricted in whom she could have this kind of affection with. This was the sort of simulacra of love that required a shared history to maintain the illusion. Anyone else whom Bethany could love like this was already dead.

Marina and Bethany had a connection: revolving around a third woman they had loved.

A colossus of a woman who was going to shake the entire world, and certainly shook theirs.

A dead woman that both of them failed in their own ways, and then abandoned.

These two women lay in a big, ornate bed together like royalty, one holding the other.

Bethany rubbed Marina’s back briefly. As she suspected, Marina had artificially hidden her scars. It felt like there were even new ones.

Her only visible scar was the one Leda put on her chest; so Bethany would recall it.

Were you tortured? What have you been doing? Why are you Marina now?

Why didn’t you return to the Republic when the plot failed?

Those were the questions she wanted to ask. But that just wasn’t their relationship.

“Might I hope for a massage tonight? Dare I dream of such luxury?”

“Maybe. You’re so pathetic that I’m considering it.”

“Do you have a smoke around?”

“No. Your lungs will thank you for it.”

“I could really go for one.”

Bethany sighed. Marina laughed a little bit.

All of this was far too nostalgic and idyllic for Bethany.

She knew that the world was a bleak place where people used and abused each other.

“Marina, why are you here? You didn’t come to Vogelheim just for me.” She said.

She felt Marina tense a little in her arms.

“I told you, completely honestly, I wanted to reconnect. It’s our last chance for that.”

Marina was not lying. Bethany knew that. But she was not telling the whole truth.

“You want to take Elena away. Tell me why.” Bethany said.

There was no other possible reason.

Had it been anyone else, she might have said ‘You want to kill Elena.’

But she knew that, even for the G.I.A., this particular spy would not do such a thing.

“She just looks so much like her mother. I can’t help myself.”

“Don’t joke about that.”

“Yeah, I was grossed out by myself the moment I said it. I apologize.”

“Apologize by telling me the truth.”

Bethany started to rub Marina’s back, working her way up to her stiff shoulders.

Marina was quiet for a few moments, taking in the touch.

She still quivered, every so often, when there was a new movement she was not used to.

It was obvious that she had been hurt. She had been hurt really badly.

“I’m taking Elena to the Union.”

“The Union? Are you insane?”

Bethany was quite scandalized. Even someone like her, who had been part of subversive plots in the Empire, and who held quite a few grudges against her government, still nursed the Empire’s prejudice against the vicious communists to the South. What was the G.I.A. doing?

“We’re allies. The Union and the Republic; right now, the communists are our only remaining military power in the Western oceans. We can depend on them. They’re more reliable than you think.”

“Marina, I could understand taking her to the Republic, but–”

“How? The Empire is occupying the Ayre Reach. If we take Elena to the Union she can be safe until the Republic’s counteroffensive opens a route to get her to Alayze. That’s my plan. Listen, Bethany, I got some new contacts. I have some assets I can rely on to smuggle me and Elena into the Union. This is incumbent on us moving quickly. I can have her in the Union in a week.”

Bethany sighed into Marina’s back. She squeezed her shoulders a bit harder than before.

“Hey, careful.”

“I’ve done unthinkable things for Elena’s safety. And yet, this is giving me pause.”

“Bethany, this location won’t be safe anymore. Erich leaked it for a reason. It’s his way of telling you that he will not protect Elena anymore. They are not blood related, and she has no place in his Empire. I don’t know what kind of resources you have or what sort of deal you had with him, but it’s done now. He invited a bunch of nobles to meet him here, then he stood you all up. That’s his signal. Those people are on the chopping block and so is this entire island now.”

Bethany turned Marina around to face her.

For a moment, Marina struggled. She turned a pair of blank, panicked eyes on Bethany.

“Solceanos defend, I thought you wanted to garrote me or something!”

“Garrote you?”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m running an anxiety high here.”

Marina sighed. Bethany looked into her eyes.

She was tired, weary. Spent, even. Why was she doing all of this?

“It’s incredibly lame for a spy to keep telling me how fucked up she is.”

“It’s all part of my play, darling.”

“Marina tell me what you know. Do you have information on a plot against Elena?”

Bethany looked Marina dead in eyes. Not with anger, but with hope.

Hope for some kind of cooperation. To break the barrier that made them lie to each other.

Marina looked back at her. Again, her eyes were completely weary.

“I don’t have anything on an actual plot, but I can surmise one will happen. Vogelheim’s location has made it outside the ring of nobles invited to this meeting. I know because the info was sold to me. Ever since the Web network expanded to encompass the Empire instead of individual station LANs, it’s become huge in the underworld. Elena’s location is spreading, Bethany.”

“I’m not so savvy about this interweb stuff. But I get the point. Vogelheim is not secret anymore. So you’re afraid that Elena can’t stay here because someone could possibly target her.”

Marina sighed, as if it were worse than Bethany described.

“Erich told the nobles that he invited to Vogelheim that he would be meeting them here. You know this. If one of those nobles leaked that information then they leaked his presence too.”

At that point, the real danger of the situation finally hit Bethany.

She had been so stupid! She had been so stupid about everything!

It was not just that Elena was here. It was not in fact about Elena at all.

Outside entities had information that led them to believe that Erich was in a vulnerable location. He was not among his invincible, all-conquering fleet, he was hiding in a backwater station. He had gone to Vogelheim, a place that was now known to be important, to those who sought such information, to celebrate his sister’s birthday with a coterie of close aristocrats.

To know about Vogelheim was one thing. To know Erich would be there was much more.

For all of his rivals, it would seem a perfect chance to squash him and any alliances he was hoping to build within the aristocracy. Elena and Vogelheim would just be collateral damage.

“Solceanos protect us.”

“No, I will protect her. You have to let me take her, Bethany.”

Bethany was stunned speechless.

All those years ago, she had promised Leda that she would protect Elena.

She had stood by Elena’s side through her teenage and adult life.

Under the guise of teaching her, seeing to her, being the servant every noblewoman needed to have at hand to succeed in high society. Bethany also protected her. Marina was right when she said Bethany could have refused Gertrude entrance to Vogelheim. She had that right; that power. It was not only Erich who had granted it. Bethany had prepared defenses and contingencies.

She had never prepared for Erich himself to betray Elena. It was impossible to prepare for such a thing. It was like preparing against the wrath of God. Like trying to stop heaven from falling.

“I can protect her, Bethany.”

Marina looked into her eyes again. There was suddenly conviction, behind them.

Bethany, feeling suddenly weak, embraced Marina strongly.

“Tomorrow. Please. Let her have this for tonight. Let– let me have this.”

Marina was stunned. She made no verbal response.

She returned Bethany’s embrace. Slowly; probing, as if fleetingly afraid of the touch.


The Iron Lady was the seventh ship of the Irmingard class of dreadnoughts designed in the 970s, and she was the latest to launch.

Her profile was a work of art: a rounded, “spoon”-shaped prow concealed a forward heavy coilgun battery alongside a pair of torpedo tubes and extra sensory equipment. From the “spoon,” the Iron Lady had a thick “neck” that then expanded into the bulk of the curvaceous hull, 300 meters long and bedecked with dozens of emplacements, six light coilguns and a second heavy coilgun set. It had a magnificent silhouette, unlike the utilitarian, boxy ships of the Republic. Its design signified the majesty of the Empire.

Alongside the lead ship of the class and the first to launch, Prince Erich von Fueller’s Irmingard, the Iron Lady had been specifically outfitted to carry additional divers: it could deploy four at a time and carry six. Unlike the lead ship, the Iron Lady retained a gunmetal gray factory color at the behest of its commander, instead of adopting the livery of a territory or a noble sponsor.

At the present, the Iron Lady represented something of a burden to the port of Vogelheim, which was designed at best to carry a few Frigates. It occupied two frigate-size docks and was being held in place by the leftmost docking clamps of one dock and the rightmost of another. An engineering ship had removed the middle clamps and would have to replace them. But this was a small thing to prepare at the behest of the Imperial Princess, for her best lady Lichtenberg.

Overnight, Gertrude Lichtenberg had spent as much time as she could with her lady.

Unfortunately, she could not wait until morning. As much as it pained her to have to leave.

Gertrude had not intended to stay the night. But her crew was loyal, and she had a lot of resources, so she was able to make things to work. She would have to thank Ingrid for that.

She made her needs clear to Elena in the afterglow of their encounter.

And she spent what time they had to comfort her and assure her.

For hours, she held the Princess in her arms, telling herself, that she had to leave. Soon.

Past midnight, into the waning hours, tempting the dawn.

Finally, she made herself go. Elena accepted it; they parted on wonderful terms.

Gertrude had to return to the ocean so she could make damn sure that Elena would be protected in the events that were likely about to unfold. Prince Erich’s recent behavior and movements had her worried, as well as the demeanor of the Duchess Veka and the ambitions of the Pontiff Millenia Skarsgaard II of the Solceanos church in Skarsgaard, among other characters in the ensuing drama of the Emperor’s death and the question of the royal succession. Gertrude hoped that there would be a peaceful transition of power, and the Inquisition behind her would fight for that.

So, deep into the night, she stepped back through the docking chute into her ship.

Her ship security officer came to meet her at the door and saluted her arrival.

“You look happy.” He said casually, in contrast to the stiff military pose that he had struck.

Gertrude winked at him.

“I had a good time tonight. Did the lads enjoy their brief shore leave?”

“I’m surprised more of them didn’t go. I think some of them were just caught off-guard by this whole situation. A big group did go to the orchard and to the beach. I ended up going with them, just to make sure they didn’t trouble anyone. Fresh apples taste rather strange ma’am. Nothing like the applesauce we get on the ship. To be honest, it was a huge disappointment.”

“Applesauce has a sugary syrup mixed in. Natural apples can’t really compete.”

“I suppose so. Some of the lads snuck off to try to get girls, but they ran into Ingrid. If I didn’t know better I’d have thought Ingrid was also out trying to get girls too. But she wasn’t none too pleased to see the lads making passes at women in the countryside, and she let ‘em have it.”

“Oh, unfortunate for them! So Ingrid left the ship? Did she have fun, you think?”

“I dunno that anyone can yell that much at the sailors without having fun with it.”

Gertrude grinned. “I hope they don’t hate her too much for it. She has a temper.”

“Hate? No. I think they just as afraid of her as they’ve always been though.”

Chief of Security Karl Vogt was a heavyset boy, with a serious, no-nonsense face, who carried himself stiffly, as if it took a lot of effort to move those big muscles around. His blond hair was cropped short, and he wore no accoutrements he did not need. However, he had a good sort of demeanor, where he was able to talk to Gertrude like he did to anyone else.

After a day of being called “the lady,” “lady Lichtenberg,” and even “master Lichtenberg” it was refreshing.

“Well, I’m glad you had a good time yourself. Welcome back aboard, Inquisitor.”

He gestured for her to go first, and she got started through the Iron Lady’s corridors.

How comfortable an Imperial ship was depended entirely on its size. Cutters were spartan and cramped places where eight men a room slept in bags, some on top of the torpedo racks. It was miserable, but it was the path out of poverty for a lot of people. Frigates and Cruisers could feel like homes. Serving on a dreadnought, however, was for the best of the best. Either the elite, the privileged or the lucky. If a Cruiser could be a home, then a Dreadnought could be a palace. Corridors just spacious enough to avoid being oppressive. Quarters where at most three men or women shared: for the whole crew, even the sailors. Grand decorations and filigree. Portraits on the walls, music in the halls. It was a warship, and the men were engaged in their work. But their environments were not actively hostile to them, and this was highly valued by Imperial sailors.

Food and entertainment were limited, but there was a gym that could fit fifty men all working out at once and listening to music, and you would not find a gym in a Cutter or a Frigate. Gertrude had come to take this for granted, and after coming in from the open spaces of Vogelheim she could feel herself canned in, with metal all around her. She acclimated quickly, of course.

Now that she was back aboard, she had to pay an official visit to the Captain first.

Then she could visit Ingrid. Hopefully without Vogt in tow.

“I can take it from here.” Gertrude said, once they crossed the neck of the Iron Lady.

“Yes ma’am. I think I’ll hit the gym. Haven’t done anything but walk around all day.”

“Sure. Work those arms a bit.”

Vogt nodded, turned around and left the way he came.

Sighing a little, with relief at finally being alone enough with her thoughts, Gertrude moved forward to the command pod of the Iron Lady. She was the ship’s commander and led its forces, but she was an Inquisitor, and the function of the Captain was served by another officer. She had ultimate decision-making authority, but her Captain and his First Officer handled routine command of the ship. It was his role to apply her broad instructions and ensure the crew fulfilled their duties.

She found him where she expected, on the palatial bridge of the Iron Lady.

Imperial bridges were wide and cylindrical. The Captain and any VIPs and trusted assistants sat in an island in the middle of the bridge, while around there were circular layers of computer stations for all the remaining essential tasks. Closest to the Captain’s island were the communications and sensor stations as well as the helmsman, while gunners sat farther out. A grandiose throne-like seat was reserved for the ship’s ultimate authority. In this case, it was empty since Gertrude was not sitting on it. Only the Captain and his Officer were present at this hour.

“Welcome back, Lady Lichtenberg. Did you settle matters to your satisfaction?”

“You could say that! We can get underway again as soon as everyone’s ready.”

Her Captain, Einz Dreschner, was a severe-looking man with high, gaunt cheekbones and a strong jaw, his hair cut down to bare whisps that were hidden beneath his peaked cap. He wore his uniform to regulation, and somehow, he always looked he had a fresh one, as if someone were ironing his clothes as he wore them throughout the day. He was almost twice Gertrude’s age.

“How was your friend?” Dreschner asked.

Even his casual questions had a strict sort of tone to them. Gertrude smiled.

“She’s going through a rough patch, I think, but I’m happy I was able to be there for her.”

“I think, if she’s a sensible girl, she’ll appreciate the Inquisitor’s gestures of kindness.”

“Oh, she does, I’m pretty certain of it.” Gertrude laughed nervously. “She appreciated it.”

“Fear not. We will return, maybe even soon. Thirty years ago, my wife waited a decade to marry me when I deployed, first to the Western borderland, then Ayre, then for the Rebellion–”

Gertrude did not bring up that Dreschner was divorced.

She appreciated his attempts to comfort her. Like Vogt, Gertrude had something of a friendly rapport with Dreschner.

“What about you Karen, how are you doing?”

“I– I’m– I’m fine thank you!”

That stiff, instantaneous reply was characteristic of Karen Schicksal, a bespectacled girl with big glasses and mousy hair who served as Dreschner’s First Officer. She was older than Gertrude but only by a few years, still young, and due to her short stature, young-looking. Her rosy cheeks and nose were mildly pockmarked, and she had a frenetic, nervous energy to her. There was something cute about her, like a yappy little dog, so Gertrude could never be too hard on her.

“How prepared do you think we are to set off?”

“Prepared? Well.” Schicksal paused to think for a second, tapping her feet very loudly.

“Schicksal.” Dreschner said.

She instantly stopped her foot tapping. “Ah, sorry! Sorry, force of habit.”

Gertrude smiled.

“Oh right, the question!” Schicksal gesticulated wildly. “Well we only need the Helmsman and a few comms officers on the bridge for a quick departure! We can re-staff gradually– I’d say we could have her ready in twenty minutes if we can just get the Helmsman back from his room!”

The First Officer spoke with frantic energy, but everything she said was correct.

“Could you go fetch him?” Gertrude asked.

“Oh! Yes! Yes ma’am!”

Schicksal instantly bolted out of the bridge as fast as her legs could carry her.

Dreschner shook his head.

“She’s technically competent, but she has no confidence. It’ll hold her back.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Gertrude said. “You should praise her more often. Build her up.”

Dreschner turned a narrow-eyed, skeptical glare over to Gertrude.

“Perhaps.”

He was thoroughly unconvinced. Gertrude laughed gently.

“Now that we’ve gotten the crew back in motion, I will retreat to my quarters.” Gertrude said. “I know you’ll have everything under control, but don’t hesitate to call on me if needed.”

“Of course, milady, but as a friend I will err on the side of letting you rest.”

“I had a feeling you would say that.”

Dreschner cracked a tiny smile. Gertrude returned one twice as wide before departing.

She actually had one more destination before hitting the hay.

Aside from Elena, Gertrude had managed to make one other unlikely friend in the world.

Gertrude strode past the mess, where even at this hour there was a cook on duty who was boiling up some sausage and buckwheat grits for a small group of patrolmen, all of whom waved at Gertrude as she went. She waved back. Beyond the mess, she found the officer’s quarters. Opposite her own room was one door, decorated with a badge that read ‘K9’ affixed by magnet.

“Gertrude? That you staring at the door? You smell funny.”

That shouting voice brought a smile to Gertrude’s face.

“Can I come in?” She asked. “Are you decent?”

“I’m always decent.”

Gertrude slid the door open just enough to get herself inside and closed it behind her.

As she expected, Ingrid was only really “decent” by her own definition.

She was dressed in nothing more than a pair of underwear shorts and a tanktop pulled up enough that it barely concealed her breasts. Her tail wagged incessantly when she saw Gertrude, though her expression was an antagonistic smirk. She laid in bed beside a plate of sausages and pickled onion, holding open a thick comic book anthology.

‘Johannes Jager;’ stories about a ridiculous-looking vigilante.

“You look like you’re having a good time.” Gertrude said.

“You smell like you did.” Ingrid said, grinning even more broadly.

Gertrude should have imagined that was coming.

She did perfume herself before she left–

Ingrid suddenly started sniffing.

Before Gertrude could get a word in, she started to brag.

“So there’s all the perfume, that’s a cute trick, but I’m not stupid, you don’t wear that fruity kind of perfume, you wear colognes like a fucking rich boy. I’ve smelled them because you wear it for promotion ceremonies. Similarly, I know how you smell when you’re sweaty at the gym. Furthermore, from my own vast personal experience I know what fucking a girl smells like–”

Gertrude cried out in defense. “Okay! I’ll take a shower! I just wanted to see you first!”

“Such consideration! I’m no princess, you know. I’m not dainty enough for your attention.”

She made eyes at Gertrude mockingly. Gertrude took the mockery in stride.

“Yes, you’ll unfortunately always be second place in my heart.”

Ingrid looked at her for a moment, stuck in between offense, confusion, and amusement.

She then sighed openly, finally put down her comic book, and laid back in bed.

“Well I’m glad you got outside for once, lady knight.” Ingrid sighed again. She had a distant look on her face, as if it were laborious to speak. “Look, joking aside, I know you love to see her. I don’t really give a shit one way or another what happens to her, but I like it when you’re cheerful. After the last battle you’ve been crazy sullen, so I hope you’ll stop being so depressing now.”

Gertrude pulled a seat out from the wall near Ingrid’s bed and sat beside her.

She sighed deeply, trying to relax. Her shoulders felt incredibly tense.

“I’m happy you care so much. I’ll try to take better care of myself.”

“I bet you ate like a queen over there. Wish I could have some.” Ingrid said.

She picked up a wan looking piece of sausage and had a sad little bite of it.

Gertrude smiled at her. She was trying to change the subject after being too emotional.

“As a matter of fact–”

Gertrude withdrew a tiny bottle from her coat. It was bright pink, and bubbly inside.

“I couldn’t bring you soggy bread and cold meatballs. I figured you’d like this better.”

“Huh! Well, thanks, I guess. Smells like booze.”

Ingrid took the bottle and stared at it curiously. It was unlabeled; it was bottled for the villa and the servants of the villa knew what it was, but it was not ever intended that Elena or anyone important would have to read it, and it was not a commercial product. As such, the bottle itself had intricate patterns, but there were no brands, no nutritional information, nothing on it.

“I think it’s like a rose wine of some kind.” Gertrude said.

She had picked up the bottle from a table. It was one of the drinks served to guests.

Using only sheer brute force, Ingrid snapped the stopper off the bottle.

She gave it a gentle sniff, and then took a long draught.

“Awoo! This is amazing!”

She gave a cheerful little cry, her tail wagging and her ears twitching.

“I feel like I can taste the fruits. It’s so sweet. I’ve never drank booze like this.”

Ingrid stuck out the bottle for Gertrude. The lady politely refused this offering.

“I’ve had more than enough luxury tonight. This is all for you, friend.”

“You spoil me! I’ll make you regret that someday.”

Ingrid tipped her head back and tipped the bottle into her lips.

In one long gulp, she downed the entire thing.

Afterwards, she exhaled with great pleasure, shutting her eyes hard.

“Ah! It’s boozier than I thought when I tasted it. But it’s so smooth. Incredible.”

For a moment, her friend merely sat, eyes closed, tail wagging incessantly.

Ingrid then suddenly closed in on Gertrude in a swift movement and whispered.

“I wanna know about all these luxuries you’ve had. I know you fucked her.”

Gertrude nearly jumped. Both from having Ingrid at her cheek, and the question.

“From the smell, I even know it went on a while–”

“Oh my god, Ingrid–”

“I’m imagining it now, ‘Oh Gertrude, be gentle with me!’ How loud was she?”

For all that Ingrid joked about Gertrude’s boyishness, this lad talk from her was too much.

“We are not going down this path.” Gertrude laughed, turning brightly red.

“Funny you say that because I can tell a certain someone went down tonight–”

Gertrude both looked mortified but was still unable to stop laughing. “Ingrid, stop it!”

Ingrid joined her, cackling. “Do you regret not getting a muzzle for me?” She asked.

That particular joke had an edge to it that made Gertrude suddenly self-conscious.

“Ingrid of course not!” She answered earnestly. Her friend saw her worried face and sighed.

Unique among the members of the Iron Lady’s crew, Ingrid Järveläinen Kindlysong was ethnically a Loup. Most prominently, Ingrid’s large, erect brown dog ears and long, bushy-furred tail indicated her Loup blood. Like the distantly related Shimii, there was no fur anywhere but her ears and tail, and she was like any other person in every other respect. As a result of both heritage and hard work, she stood quite tall and was very physically fit, with short, messy dark hair and rich brown skin. Gertrude thought she had a distinctive beauty, but Ingrid ignored appearances entirely, save for basic hygiene. Her hair was in its natural state; no cosmetics touched her face.

Her face, with a strong, slim, attractive appearance often marred by a mocking grin.

“You’re telling me you haven’t thought about it, even a little?” Ingrid said.

“Ingrid, please stop. I told you it will never be like that between us.” Gertrude pleaded.

“Don’t take it so seriously!” Ingrid said. “You’re so dull. You know I just joke about it.”

For Gertrude, who told herself she would help Elena change the Empire, it was serious.

When it came to the Loup, and perhaps even more tragically with the Shimii, the darker side of the Empire, its elitism and ingrained cruelty, was fully on display. Gertrude, daughter of the land that she was, could not herself make the leap to the word “racism,” but it was racism that defined the Empire’s attitude to the Loup. Ingrid’s mocking face could indeed have been quieted with a muzzle: a symbol of the Empire’s attitude toward the Loup. Bite our enemies, but never bark at us; do not believe you can be equals to us. You’ll be put in your place as animals.

“Jeez, you got me out of the K-9, you know? I’d wear a fucking muzzle for you.”

“I’d never allow that! I respect you too much to see you like that.”

Loup normally served in “K-9” units that acted as a sort of vanguard or scouting role for the Imperial Navy. Loup were often packed into boarding torpedoes. They did dirty jobs. In those sorts of roles, Ingrid had achieved the rank of Sotnyk, a unique Loup officer rank. But Gertrude wanted no part in that cycle of abuse. To her, Ingrid was a full crew member, not K-9.

“You’re such a self-righteous dork. Let me worry about muzzles, ok?”

Sometimes, however, Gertrude tried far too hard.

Ingrid was too headstrong for it.

She threw herself back on the bed, groaning with exasperation.

Gertrude sighed. Sometimes it was like this between them. “I apologize.”

“Don’t walk on eggshells around me, I hate that shit. Just be normal to me.”

“I won’t patronize you. I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?”

Ingrid stared at her, suddenly grinning at her again.

“So did she get you off? Did the princess go down on you?

“Stop that! That’s between her and I what happened.”

“Yeah, it’s between you, her and me. You always tell me your secrets.”

“Not this one!”

Gertrude was once again laughing.

Ingrid really knew how to change the mood.

“This conversation has been too one-sided! I believe I’ve told you enough–”

“You haven’t told me shit though!” Ingrid whined.

“–So you tell me about your adventures today.” Gertrude deflected. “You went out, right?”

Ingrid crossed her arms. “I was just stretching my legs a bit. This place sucks though. It’s just all bullshit. There’s nothing to do; nobody lives here. It’s like a movie set with no movie. So what was I gonna do anyway? I basically just took out my frustration on the corny fuckin’ sailors.”

“My sources indicate you gave them just the right amount of grief.”

“There’s more where that came from. Anyway, I ate some apples and read comic books.”

“People really hype up having sex, but you sound like you had a really nice day.”

“Ok, let’s trade then.”

“Shut up!”

Almost every time Gertrude visited Ingrid, she thought she would drop in and drop out. Instead they talked like a pair of teenagers for hours and hours in this same fashion, trading banter, insults and anecdotes, commiserating about the upcoming voyage, even as the ship got underway.


In the tumult of sleep, Elena found herself once again walking the long, lonely halls of the Luxembourg Academy for Girls. In her dream the school had none of the color it had in life, and it was as empty in her imagination as she had felt when she attended in the flesh. Her loneliness and estrangement became long shadows and vacant classrooms in the prison of her mind.

There was one scene, which she was helpless to change.

Gertrude stood in the hall facing at Elena such that the Princess could see her expression.

She was not looking at Elena. She did not even know Elena was there.

Partially obscuring her, was another young woman of their mutual acquaintance.

Her back was to Elena. So she could not see her face; nor the contents of her heart.

She could not have called it “friendship.” Not anymore and maybe even not back then.

Everyone was on the cusp of a parting. It could be felt as a tension in the air.

Words were exchanged.

Gertrude’s eyes drew open in fury, a fire burning in them.

Bigger and stronger than any of the girls, when Gertrude drew her hand and slapped Victoria across the face, the younger woman tipped over immediately, falling to the ground and staring up in helpless rage at the one who had struck her down. She struggled to get back up, shaking, teeth grit. She turned and walked away in shame, and when she did so, she took the corner where Elena had been standing, watching from afar with no ability to stop them from fighting.

“Victoria–”

Elena called her name, but it was no use. Victoria looked at her, and for the first time, Elena saw tears in the eyes of that cold, collected cat-girl who had fallen into her orbit. She never saw her again, except in dreams. Except in this scene. While the scene itself was short, to Elena it encompassed the whole of her sleep. Victoria’s face, red in the cheek where Gertrude had beaten her, tears freely flowing in a way they never had and maybe never would again. Her fists helplessly balled up into instruments still too soft to ever cause any harm to the woman Elena truly loved.

She never truly understood why Victoria and Gertrude fought that day.

She never knew why it had to be that her group of school friends shattered irreparably.

There were no answers to be found in dreams.

There was only the anxious, agonizing repetition of things half understood.

“Let’s meet again, Elena.” She said, never once turning her head to face her.

Elena stood dumbfounded. Victoria was going away. Her little group was broken up.

She did not even notice there was one more standing behind her.

“You’re really hard to love, Elena, you know that? And worse your presence, it like…it demands love. There’s no way for people spellbound by you to turn away. Until it hurts them.”

There was no need to move to know the owner of that voice.

Sawyer.

Second tallest behind Gertrude. Long brown hair, elegant but also tomboyish.

Direct. Blunt. Impassioned.

Perhaps the only one of them who had hurt Elena and remained her friend despite this.

“It’s tough. It’s been tough for all of us. We’re all too hardheaded. You most of all.”

Elena closed her hands into fists. She wanted to cry and to shut out that voice.

But Sawyer’s voice came from everywhere. There was no escape in a dream–

–In a nightmare,

“Gertrude made herself into someone who would walk on a bed of nails for you. Because that’s what you want. Victoria can’t be that and hates herself for it. As for me, I am not able to love you. You know that. I thought I could use you…maybe Victoria thought that too?”

She felt a hand patting her shoulder, in pity, in mockery.

“You’ll always have Gertrude. And maybe someday I’ll come back too. Maybe soon.”

In an instant, the shadows crept off the walls and swallowed her like ocean water.

“We’ll all meet back up, and we’ll look back on today, thinking of how stupid we were.”

Elena sat up in shock. Soaked in sweat, heart exploding, mind gripped in sudden panic.

She was awake. She was undressed, in bed. Gertrude had gone. Dawn crept up slowly.

Her dress, her mother’s beautiful dress, had been carefully folded atop the dresser.

A gentle breeze blew through the room that carried the scent of the woods.

“I need to get out of here for a bit.” Elena said to herself. “I’m going to go insane.”

She did not want to think about how Gertrude was gone for god knows how long.

Her body quivered slightly when she remembered what they had done last night.

She had finally consummated her relationship. She’d– She’d had sex! With ‘Trude!

And yet, there was something missing. Well, of course. It was ‘Trude herself.

In the moment, the act of sex had been consuming, overwhelming, incredible.

Her love for Gertrude was so intense that it hurt.

Elena had woken up scared, cold and alone with nobody to comfort her.

She felt bitter. No matter how good it felt, she only had the memory.

She was lonely.

For how much longer would things go on like this?

Why was she thinking so much about her school days too?

Victoria, Sawyer, Gertrude– maybe she felt like she was now left with nobody.

And she hated having to remember Sawyer’s last words to her.

Was she really that selfish? Was her presence that horrible?

Had she really done all those things?

Was this due to her station? Or was she just a horrible person?

Did her mother have to suffer like this too?

Elena sobbed. She had no answers to the questions flooding her head.

But it was a new day. Life had to go on somehow.

She would talk to Bethany about her mother. Maybe that strange woman from the party would visit, too. There was always some sort of thing to keep her mind occupied, she supposed. But for Gertrude to leave and Vogelheim to remain as it is, felt eerie to her. Nothing was the same.

Elena told herself she would sneak out for a walk out of the grounds.

Fresh air would do her good.

Despite the objections of her computerized dresser, she donned a simple, long-sleeved blue dress and a pair of shorts, leaving the ballroom dress where it sat. When she snuck out of the room, she found no maids around to yell at her. It was early, very early, but the sun was out. She supposed they were all working behind the scenes or simply worked too hard or partied too hard. Elena thought they all deserved the rest.

It wasn’t her choice to work them as hard as they did.

She found little resistance as she walked out the back of the villa onto the flower garden.

A strong breeze blew against her, whipping her hair behind her. She took a deep breath.

All of the flowers, despite their many beautiful colors and shapes, smelled the same.

It may well have been, that they were the same flower, with only slight differences in DNA.

Elena knew a little bit about that. Just enough to ruin the fantasy, nothing more.

Deeply sighing, she continued to walk. Negativity clung to her the whole way.

There was nothing to see in Vogelheim. There was nobody to meet.

Elena simply wandered through the flowers until she was at the edge of the forest.

For the horse it was a few minutes gallop, but it took Elena fifteen or twenty minutes.

Throughout she focused on the mechanical act of walking to empty her mind.

She took a deep breath of the forest air and sighed just as deeply.

While the scents were pleasant, it was not the same simply walking through alone.

Without anyone to accompany her, the artificiality of Vogelheim served to torment her. It was too quiet, there was no movement. Soon the silence felt oppressive. Elena realized why she barely ever went out. Everything was so beautiful but so purposeless. That fallen world, the surface far, far overhead, it had been a living place.

Vogelheim was practically a grave for that world.

It induced mourning.

“Solceanos defend. What is wrong with my head today?”

She was bitter. Too bitter. She tried to put the negativity behind her.

That required something to focus on instead, however. And she had nothing.

Whimsically, she thought she might find the clearing that she and Gertrude had sat in.

She was still at the edge of the forest, however. She had not gone far enough in.

And without the assistance of Glanz, she felt anchored to the edge of the forest.

“I can’t do anything myself. I’m such a god, damned, loser!”

Elena stamped her foot in frustration, shutting her eyes to shed a few tears.

“I’m just stuck here. I can’t do anything.” She balled up her fists.

In her mind she saw her brother’s face, and she hated him.

She hated him for doing this to her, to “protect” her, and then abandoning her.

Teeth grit, eyes shut hard, foot stamping in frustration, his face shattering with each blow.

Elena felt pathetic. She felt lost. But more than that she felt angry, furious, full of hate.

“To hell with this place. I wish it would just drown in the fucking Imbrium.”

“Such a taboo thought. It ill befits the Imperial Princess.”

Elena’s eyes drew open and wide at the sound of another human voice.

A familiar voice.

When she opened her eyes the harsh grimace of her brother had been replaced with the soft, olive-skinned, inexpressive face of a young woman in an ornate, off-shoulder blue romper worn over a long-sleeved white blouse. Her chestnut brown hair was arranged into pigtails that curled slightly at the ends, a little white cap on her head resting between two fluffy, erect cat ears.

“Victoria?”

The name escaped Elena’s lips like a gasp.

The Princess could hardly believe it. She was sure that it must have been a delusion.

Her mind must have finally snapped from all the stress.

Her tail swaying gently behind her. Standing at the edge of the forest, alone.

“Happy belated birthday.” Victoria said. Her voice was as cold and detached as ever.

Elena shut her eyes hard, dumbfounded. She opened them. Victoria was still there.

She could not imagine a single logical thing to say in return.

“I apologize for not coming to your party. I wanted to avoid Lichtenberg.”

“You wanted– you wanted to avoid Gertrude?”

Elena knew this woman as Victoria Bretagne. That was her ‘Imbrian name’ that her family adopted in order to remain ennobled during the Imperial “reconciliation” of the Shimii. That was before Elena’s time, but it was something she knew from the history books. Regardless, she had never known her under any other name. This was Victoria; it was her friend Victoria in the flesh.

“I– I don’t know what to say.” Elena tried to smile. “I’m so– I’m surprised! I just, I never expected to,” she was clearly stammering, “I never thought I’d– you’re really Victoria, right?”

Victoria nodded her head. “I am Victoria van Veka now.”

For a moment, Elena’s mind unraveled in time once more. Had she said van Veka?

Victoria had been a minor noble of the house Bretagne. She was not entitled any honorific. Those words, van Veka— they meant a lot to Elena. They said a lot; they meant that Victoria’s life had certainly changed since they last met. However, they also implied something Elena did not fully understand, something a bit scandalous. Had Victoria been adopted into the Veka household she would be von Veka. For her to be van Veka; was that honorific not reserved for things like, concubines? Illegitimate couplings and wedlock? For her to have been made a van Veka it must have meant–

“Victoria, did Veka– did Veka do something to you?” Elena said, her face turning pale.

“Mistress Veka helped me see my true strength.”

Her face was cold but determined, and around her eyes shone bright, eerie red rings.

“I need you to come with me. You’re not safe here anymore.”


Vogelheim was a station of the Imbrian Palatinate, one of the Grand Duchies of the Empire. After the time of upheaval, the Palatinate became a sacred land that housed the Royal Family. So as much as Vogelheim was a backwater station, its location within the Palatinate still made it important enough to be tended by a substantial patrol fleet and various defense systems.

Whenever a ship approached Vogelheim at common depths, the Patrol fleet would know quite ahead of time, barring the invader having perfect knowledge of the security systems. So when a flotilla of eight ships was detected in the outskirts of Vogelheim, the Patrol fleet quickly dispensed with the formalities. It was clear this flotilla was not a scheduled visitor to the site.

Twenty cutters of the Patrol Fleet assembled a kilometer away from Vogelheim as a shield and awaited the approach of the fleet with their weapon systems armed for combat. Though they could not see the enemy fleet visually, algorithmic prediction based on sonar and laser imaging had been mostly accurate in the composition and line of approach. It confirmed all of the patrolmen’s worst fears. This was a heavily armed flotilla, headed to the station at full speed.

Four gun-frigates, two ten-launcher missile frigates, a cruiser and an engineering vessel made up the “enemy” fleet. They were arrayed in an arrowhead formation, with the cruiser front and center, and the standard gun frigates screening for the missile frigates and the engineering ship heading up the rear. All of the ships had been painted with a black livery and a logo: a black eagle made of simple shapes, in a white sunburst itself within a red circle. Though the men fancied their chances of defending Vogelheim from just the Frigates, it was the Cruiser that gave them pause.

This was a brand new and imposing Ritter class Cruiser. This class had an iconic sword-like profile with sleek, modern designs for its fins, conning tower and jets. Artistic as it was in aesthetics, the Cruiser also bristled with retractable weaponry, including a double-barreled heavy coilgun emplacement and multiple defensive gas gun turrets.

Armed only with light coilguns and one light torpedo tube each, the Cutters would have a tough time engaging such a ship.

When this lead ship hailed them, the Cutters were inclined to try to come to terms.

“Attention, Vogelheim Patrol Fleet! We are not here to fight you! We are giving you a chance to join the people’s justice! We are here only for the tyrant Erich von Fueller, who has betrayed the people to foreign enemies! Interfere with us, and you become the enemy of the national proletariat! We ask that you join us! Join the uprising of the national proletariat!”

At first the hail was simply voice data over the acoustic protocol, but when the patrolmen picked up laser communications, they saw a tall, strong, brown-haired young woman in a black and silver uniform bedecked with awards and medals not of naval standard. She had a severe expression that befitted her firebrand speech. It was clear she would not back down.

“My name is Heidelinde Sawyer, I hold the rank of Sturmbannführer within the Volkisch Movement. The national proletariat demands the immediate surrender of Erich von Fueller! Join us, patrol fleet, or we will open fire!”

After many years, the stage was finally set for Elena’s class reunion.


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