CHAPTER 8
Garin settled down in her armchair, leaned back, and closed her eyes. She had just seen a news broadcast celebrating the Bren's new bold initiative to build a better Hegemony. The news reporter had gushed at how wonderful it was that a child from every Elit family was included in the enterprise. A school had been established to educate and train the children to lead the next generation of Elit.
Garin knew the truth. The children had been taken from their families to use as leverage against any hint of opposition to Lentol, and it was more indoctrination than education. Lentol was constructing a cult of devoted followers.
She wanted to do something, but what could she do? Follow orders.
So many thoughts had to be shut out for her to relax, and the only way to do that was to get drunk. She was too tired to take the shuttle to the surface, so it had to be in her quarters.
With a weary sigh, Garin climbed to her feet and poured herself a glass of gwinvin. Just as she sat down again, her personal communicator buzzed. When she saw who it was, she quickly put her drink down and answered it.
"Breena, where are you?" Garin hadn't been in contact with her younger sister in weeks, and she was worried.
"I'm… safe."
"Both Cayle and I have been trying to contact you."
"I know. I haven't been able to reply."
Garin noted the guarded tone in her sister's voice, and that Breena had disabled the holograph imaging and was using audio only. She had suspected Breena followed her commanding officer, Aloyd Willenth, and joined the opposition to the Bren – the side Garin wished she were on. Her suspicions were confirmed.
"I understand," she said, "and now you wish to connect with your sister, to see if I will reveal anything that you can take back to Aloyd Willenth."
"Gar, this is not a conflict where both sides can claim to be right and are merely fighting over their differences," Breena replied. "There is a right side and a wrong side. You are on the wrong side. Do what's right."
Garin picked up her glass of gwinvin and emptied the glass before returning it to the table. It gave her time to contemplate treason. "What do you want to know?"
There was a long pause from Breena's side. "That was quick. I expected to have to lay on the persuasion a bit more."
"I am close to the Bren. I have seen enough to know which side is right," Garin replied. "I wish I were brave enough to stand up to her directly, but that would only buy me an early grave. I want to be there when she's finally beaten."
"Then come to me."
Garin slumped further into the chair. "That will be difficult, not to mention dangerous – for both of us," she said. "I am in this mess. I don't want you getting involved."
"I am already involved," Breena countered, "and I'm putting myself in danger just by contacting you. We are soldiers. We put ourselves in danger for those who can't."
Garin couldn't help but feel admiration for her little sister, who at that moment was being a better soldier than she was, and feel shame for herself. I've got rank and position, but I've lost my integrity. "Can you give me time?"
"Yes," replied Breena. "I have to turn my communicator off, but leave a message. When I can, I'll call back."
"I… stay safe, and I'll see you soon."
"I look forward to it. Bye."
"Bye."
The connection was cut, and Garin felt an overwhelming sense of relief. She'd been thrown a lifeline. It was within reach, and all she had to do was reach out and grab it. Whether she would be saved, or die trying, didn't seem to matter. There was an end in sight.
~~~~
"No!" Rikana turned on her heel and walked back into her suite on the Fearless, leaving her guest standing in the doorway.
Kikola followed her in and approached Rikana, who was standing defiantly in the middle of her lounge. Kikola proffered a dark-green coloured garment, which Rikana stubbornly refused to take.
"If you want to go on this mission," Kikola said, "then you do so under my command, and those under my command wear a combat uniform when they are going into combat."
Rikana had been looking forward to finally getting involved in some action against the Hegemony, and knew some protection would be necessary, but this was a matter of maintaining her independence.
"Kiss my feeta!" Rikana placed her hands on her hips. "I call you by your title in front of others because you asked me to."
"I—"
"I'm not finished!" Rikana paused to see if Kikola would object. When she didn't, Rikana continued. "Right. I do that because you asked and you're my friend. You ask me to come on this mission, and I'm up for kicking Hegger arse. You don't need to ask twice. But I don't wear a Hegger uniform."
"It's for your protection. It's armoured." Kikola rapped her fist against the jacket. "Please."
Rikana had no counterargument for that. I'm not going to let you win that easily. She folded her arms and glowered at the floor. "Only if I get to customise it," she mumbled.
"You have one hour before the final brief." Kikola smiled. "Don't worry, I won't ask you to salute."
"Here's your salute!" Rikana made an obscene gesture as she grabbed the uniform out of Kikola's hand.
Kikola raised one eyebrow in unconvincing disapproval. She picked up a bag from near her feet and handed it to Rikana. "Boots and helmet."
Rikana snatched the bag and took a peek inside.
"One hour," Kikola said and left.
As the door closed, Rikana moved to the mirror and held up the armoured uniform to her body. This might work.
She rooted in the bag and pulled out the helmet. It was a dome of hard material with a pelmet made from the same material as the uniform to protect the back and sides of the neck, and a yellow tinted visor. She tried it on and pulled the visor down.
She allowed a small smile to form.
An hour later, Rikana strode into the hangar bay and entered the mission briefing room. The ten marines, of the squad Rikana was joining, were standing around the briefing table with Kikola. Rikana noticed they were all dressed in exactly the same uniform, no deviation, except some held their helmets and some had it secured to their belt. As one, they all turned to look her. Her dark-green uniform was adorned with red strips of cloth around the shoulders and arms, and had a large purple flower painted on the torso. She put her helmet on and then grinned. No one appeared to appreciate her gesture.
"You can't wear that," said Lieutenant Gailt, the team leader. "You may as well paint a target on you."
"What's your problem?" Rikana scoffed. "They'll be shooting at me then and not you."
Lieutenant Relvik Gailt was in his thirties, just short of two metres tall, with a chiselled jawline and short, regulation hair. He looked like he was bred to be a soldier. He turned and appealed to Kikola, "Rivelor."
Kikola looked at Rikana for the first time. Her face remained blank. "Rikana has my permission to customise her uniform as she sees fit. This isn't a stealth mission. They'll see you as soon as you land." Kikola silenced any more objections.
Rikana smirked at Gailt and joined the group, pushing her way between Gailt and Corporal Tunbor. She almost regretted the decision as they both towered over her.
Acting as tactical commanding officer for the mission, Kikola took charge of the meeting. "The Fearless will enter an orbital vector of Saland at light speed, slowing down at the last moment," she said. "The shuttle will drop on a ballistic trajectory to land two hundred metres inside the communications relay compound. Lieutenant Gailt, you will be in command of the ground operation. You and your team will exit the shuttle. I don't want the shuttle to be a sitting target, so it will take off and maintain a safe altitude. The enemy will have plenty of time to get off a call for help, but not that much time to mount a defence. There are only twelve guards at the facility and only three on duty at a time."
Kikola pressed a control on the table and a hologram of the mission target appeared. "As soon as you have boots on the ground, Slivent and Raal will take out the guard at the gate to the facility, here." Kikola's hand moved to indicate where. "The rest of you, except Gailt, Tunbor and Rikana, neutralise the off-duty guards in the garrison barracks, here." Again, her hand moved. "Some of the guards may be off site, but don't count on it. If all nine off duty guards are not accounted for, stay alert. You three," she indicated Lieutenant Gailt, Tunbor and Rikana, "will head straight to the main building and disable the communications central control." She pointed at one of the buildings in the compound.
Kikola changed the holographic display from showing the whole site to the inside of the communications building. "Two guards are positioned inside: one here at the front entrance, the other patrolling. Take out the one here and the other if you encounter them. The priority is setting the explosives, here." Kikola tapped the image and looked at Gailt. "As soon as the explosives are in place, recall the team, fall back to a safe distance, and detonate the explosives."
"Can I do that?" asked Rikana.
"No."
Kikola was in soldier mode, so Rikana reluctantly let it drop.
The image changed back to the site map. "Once the explosives are detonated, contact the shuttle commander and head for the rendezvous point, here." The Rivelor swept her eyes around the table to ensure she had everyone's attention. "I don't want any civilian casualties. They'll be unarmed so no threat to you. When you go in, the alarms will go off and they'll evacuate. If you encounter any, tell them to get out."
"What if they don't get out in time?" asked Gailt.
"That will be unfortunate, but the mission is the priority. If casualties are unavoidable, do your best to ensure there are the fewest casualties possible."
"Understood," said Gailt.
"Any other questions?"
There was a chorus of "No, sir."
"Good luck. Dismissed."
The team members, apart from Rikana, came to attention and saluted.
"Rikana, a moment," Kikola said.
Rikana stayed back and waited for the others to leave. "You're not going to kiss me goodbye or anything," she joked.
"What? No," Kikola replied. "I just wanted to say be careful and follow Lieutenant Gailt's orders to the letter."
"Why? So I don't hurt his feelings?" Rikana mocked.
"No, because he will keep you alive," Kikola replied soberly. "Combat is not like police work. Those are well-trained, well-disciplined marines who function as a team. Everyone knows their job and does it without question. It's not just for the mission; it's for each other. Listen to them. Learn from them. Don't upset them."
"I'll do my best," Rikana replied earnestly.
"I know you will, my friend." Kikola placed her hand on Rikana's shoulder and guided her to the doorway. "I wouldn't have sent you on this mission if I didn't believe you could bring value to the team." Kikola lowered her hand and looked at the shuttle. "I believe you can earn their respect and trust. Then maybe you can teach them a thing or two."
Rikana followed Kikola's gaze to the team gathered at the shuttle – her team. For the first time in her professional life, Rikana felt appreciated without having to compromise on being herself. She nodded and saluted.
Kikola returned the salute, "One final thing." She gestured to the customisation on Rikana's uniform. "This is one time only. Don't try it again. Dismissed."
Rikana grinned and nodded. She hurried to catch up with the others. As the team started boarding, Gailt handed out the assault weapons. "You ever fire one of these before?" he asked Rikana before handing it over.
"All the time," Rikana lied and snatched it off him. Like most other things in the military, the weapon was grey. It was also sleek, perfectly balanced, and light. Commercially available weapons in the Hegemony were limited to single shot side arms that could be disabled by authorities remotely. This weapon could fire rapidly, could not be disabled, and had higher power settings for serious damage. She looked around for the safety and arming mechanism.
Gailt snatched the weapon back. "You can use your side arm. If you want to complain about it, go see The Rivelor. The rest of us will be on the mission."
"Don't need it anyhow," Rikana replied as she headed inside.
She was surprised when she got inside. It wasn't the nice comfortable shuttle that she had been on previously. This was a combat shuttle: no comfortable seats, no in-flight entertainment. Functional was the only word to describe it. If it wasn't needed, it wasn't there.
She sat down next to Corporal Clarevi Tunbor. The woman was of similar age to Rikana, but much taller, nearly as tall as Gailt. Her round, dark eyes and thin lips looked menacing as she glared at Rikana. Once she was strapped in, Tunbor handed Rikana a plastic bag.
"You might need it," said the soldier.
"Nah."
"You know what a ballistic trajectory is, right?"
"Yeah. It's one where lightweights like you might lose their breakfast."
Tunbor pushed the bag into Rikana's chest. "Take it, 'cause if you chuck up on me, I'll kill you."
Rikana remembered what Kikola said and took the bag.
Gailt stood at the front and scanned his team. "Helmets on, visors down, weapons hot." Each member responded with an affirmative as he called their name. "Lardis." He finished with Rikana.
"I'm ready."
Gailt addressed the team. "I don't need to repeat your orders. And I don't want to hear your excuses if you get killed." There were a couple of snickers. "I mean you in particular Raal. We all know how you were last time."
"Promise not to bleed on you, sir," Raal called back.
"Let's do our job." He clicked his visor down and strapped himself in.
Rikana waited. And waited. And waited.
It was probably only five minutes, but it seemed like five hours. Eventually the pilot called out. "We're a go."
There was a small kick that pushed Rikana back in her seat when the shuttle was clear of the airlock. Within thirty seconds a small vibration could be felt. It built slowly over the next few seconds then things really started.
The vibration became a violent shaking. Rikana felt as if all the air in her lungs was being pushed up into her mouth. Somewhere behind her someone was making use of their bag. Rikana started laughing; it helped relieve the pressure in her chest and the need to use the bag herself. A massive shock wave passed through the shuttle and everything fell silent.
Sunlight burst through the shuttle doorway. Seat buckles were automatically released. Rikana turned to Tunbor. "Walk in the park."
Any reply from the soldier was interrupted. "Go!" shouted Gailt.
The team filed out of the shuttle as fast as they could, and immediately got to work. Behind them, the shuttle took off.
Rikana, Gailt, and Tunbor ran to the communications relay building. The solitary guard at the gate was already firing at them. Rikana saw a few flashes of plasma bolts whizz past her, and thought she felt one graze the top of her helmet. The guard firing at them must have noticed the others bearing down on him, since the firing suddenly appeared to be directed elsewhere. More sounds of IPBs firing could be heard coming from the garrison barracks. Rikana knew that was the rest of the team taking out the other guards, so she wasn't concerned. She refocused on the task at hand.
Tunbor opened a door and Gailt and Rikana entered the building. Two civilian technicians, who were running down the corridor towards them, froze in their tracks with panic on their faces.
"Get out!" Gailt shouted at them over the alarm that had started sounding. "This way," he said to his team and headed off into the building.
They rounded a corner. Rikana was slightly behind Gailt and saw a spark flash off his shoulder armour. She instinctively ducked and returned fire. The guard was hiding behind a door at the end of the corridor and Rikana's shots only caused damage to the door.
"Grenade!" shouted Tunbor.
Rikana saw the small cylinder sail down the corridor. She didn't see it reach its target, as a shove in her back sent her straight to the floor. The explosion was loud in the confined space, and when Rikana looked up, there was a smoking hole where the door used to be.
Gailt was already on his feet, running down the corridor and firing. Rikana half climbed to her feet and was dragged up the rest of the way by Tunbor.
"Grenade means hit the deck," the corporal shouted at Rikana, and then gave her a push to get moving after Gailt.
Rikana was about to protest when she saw another guard rounding the corner behind Tunbor. The guard was too close to Tunbor for Rikana to risk firing. "Behind you!"
Tunbor turned. She grabbed the guard's weapon. He slammed his fist into Tunbor's chest and sent her tumbling backwards.
Rikana reacted. She sidestepped the falling corporal and launched herself at the guard. He pivoted and started to swing his weapon up towards her. It was too late for him; she was within his defences. Rikana hooked her left arm around the guard's neck and her momentum carried him backwards. The two of them bumped into the wall of the corridor, preventing them from falling to the floor.
The guard let out a guttural roar and tried again to bring his weapon up to fire. Rikana gripped his wrist with her left hand, struck him in the face with her right and swiped his legs from underneath him. As he went down, she kept hold of his wrist and twisted. His weapon clattered to the floor and he cried out in pain.
Rikana allowed herself a moment of pride that her Taro Di-Arm training was worth it. The moment passed quickly as Tunbor shot the prone guard.
There was no time to discuss the incident. Tunbor pushed Rikana. "Come on!"
They reached the end of the corridor and picked their way over the dead body in the rubble of the doorway. Gailt was busy placing a charge against a bank of communications equipment. Tunbor hurried over to the server controlling the station and started placing another charge. All Rikana could do was stand guard and wait. When the charges were placed, Gailt recalled the team and the three of them headed out of the building.
The rest of the team were waiting for them outside the building. Gailt did a quick headcount. "Follow me."
He headed out of the gate to the compound. When they were about one hundred metres outside the gate, Gailt turned around. "Everyone down!" The team lay down. "Three, two, one."
There was a loud 'whump'. Rikana looked back at what was left of the building. It doesn't get better than this.
As Rikana climbed to her feet, Tunbor came over and slapped her on the back. "Thanks, you saved me a bit of pain back there."
"I'll send you the bill."
Tunbor frowned. "Yeah… uh, let me buy you a drink when we get back."
"Are you trying to hit on me?"
Gailt approached them with a large grin on his face. "Only if you're hiding a large cock down there," he said, and pointed at the appropriate area.
"Yeah, definitely not my type." Tunbor laughed.
Gailt shared in the laughter. "So, Lardis you want to call the Rivelor and tell her the good news?"
"Fuck yeah." Rikana cackled and activated her comm.
~~~~
When Kikola was a child she had visited the ruins of Asgir City on Edalcim. Asgir was once a sprawling metropolis that had been reduced to rusted metal and dust by the passage of time. The museum there had preserved some artefacts and artwork. One in particular had caught the young girl's attention. It was titled "Vengeance" and depicted a soldier with wide eyes and insane grin bearing down on his target with weapons blazing. Kikola had imagined the deranged laughter that came from the combatant. That image painted thousands of years ago perfectly captured the ferocity and violence of battle.
She was reminded of that painting when Rikana called in to report the success of the mission to disable the communications relay. Rikana's cackling laugh faded, but that immortalised wide-eyed gaze remained.
"That was awesome! Can I blow some more Hegger stuff up?" asked Rikana.
"No," replied Kikola. "Any casualties on the team?"
"No."
"Very well. Head for the rendezvous point."
"Aye, Riv."
Rikana's image disappeared.
"A tad too eager," said Aloyd Willenth, offering his observation from his chair in the command station on the bridge of the Fearless.
"She's young, but competent," Kikola replied in her understated way.
She studied the readouts on the monitor by her chair. The communications relay on Saland had been destroyed. The team sent to destroy it had incurred no casualties. The relay was not of strategic importance in the grand scheme of things. Communications would be routed around it, but it sent a message to Lentol. More importantly, it would attract the attention of the Thunderer, a nearby corvette on patrol, which would come to investigate and fall into their trap.
"The shuttle has collected the team and is returning to the ship," reported the officer at the tactical station.
Kikola sat back in her chair next to Aloyd Willenth. "Now we wait," she said.
It was over an hour before a contact appeared on the proximity display. The Fearless was in close orbit of Saland and undetectable to the newcomer in the background noise.
"Helm, now!" Kikola called out.
"Aye, sir," replied the helm.
The Fearless left orbit on an intercept course of the incoming corvette. "Fire!" Kikola called out.
It was too late for the Thunderer. It was more manoeuvrable than the heavy cruiser, but not fast enough to avoid the spread of weapons fire.
"Target hit," announced tactical. "Weapons disabled."
"Cease fire," ordered Aloyd Willenth.
"Aye, sir."
"Display visual on screen, magnification five," Captain Wurth said. At that magnification, they were able to see the corvette in more detail. The ship was trailing a cloud of debris behind it. There were small flashes from escape pods launching and larger flashes from weapons stores exploding. Eventually the flashes stopped and the hulk of the corvette continued on its trajectory towards an orbit of Saland.
"Round up the survivors," Kikola told Wurth. "Have them stripped of weapons and transfer them to the planet."
"To the planet?" questioned the captain.
"Yes. We are not equipped to house that many prisoners at home base, and I am not going to execute them."
"Very good," Wurth replied. He then turned to the bridge's security station and ordered the officer in charge to see to the arrangements.
Aloyd Willenth gave the next order. "Commander Ghal, send teams over to the Thunderer. I want as many spares, armaments, and supplies salvaged before we have to vaporise it and get out of here."
"Aye, sir!" replied the First Officer.
Kikola got up from the command chair and said, "Will you join me in the ready room, Aloyd?"
"Yes, Rivelor," the aloyd acknowledged. "Captain Wurth, you have the bridge."
Kikola immediately eyed a pitcher of water on the credenza behind the desk. She asked the aloyd if he would like some water, but he declined. She poured herself a glass and took a long drink. She felt a bit parched after the excitement of battle, however minor the skirmish.
"That went very smoothly," Willenth observed.
"Yes, it went well."
"It will take a while before survivors are collected and shuttled down to the planet's surface, and the salvage operation is completed," the aloyd said. "That gives us time to carry out our next plan of action."
"Agreed," Kikola replied, finishing the last sip of water. "Let's make the announcement."
~~~~
After a particularly tedious day of Council inter-departmental briefings, Ambra had returned to her penthouse apartment in Ralkatar. She was looking forward to having a quiet evening with no disruptions. The evening did not go quite as planned.
Ambra was seated at a small dining table with a sumptuous meal placed in front of her. She breathed in the pleasant aromas of the Hukha fish with calrots and summer greens. Just as she was about to cut into the fillet, she heard a short chime.
She was slightly annoyed to have her meal disturbed by someone at her door. She gestured to her slave, Lyra, to go answer it. Lyra hurried away and returned with Aloyd Falentha. Ambra had forgotten she had called for Gral'hilanth's services this evening, so the aloyd's arrival was a further annoyance.
Aloyd Falentha approached and came to attention on the other side of the table. "Reporting as ordered, Bren."
Ambra ignored the woman and continued eating her meal. When she thought the aloyd had stood there long enough, Ambra looked up. She noted the slight downward glance from Gral'hilanth as Ambra met her gaze. Good, Ambra thought, you're learning. That deserves a reward.
"Have a seat," Ambra said, gesturing to an empty chair.
Gral'hilanth pulled out the chair to the Bren's left and sat down.
"Would you like something to drink?"
"Yes, Bren."
Ambra ordered her slave to bring two durmywids, but before she could take a sip, her comm signalled an incoming message. Another interruption. Ambra ordered Gral'hilanth to go see what it was.
The aloyd dutifully went over to the comm unit on the Bren's desk. She came back with an electronic paper. Judging from the aloyd's wan pallor, Ambra guessed it was not good news. Falentha remained standing on the other side of the table and offered the report to the Bren.
"Read it aloud." Ambra set about finishing off the last few bites of her meal.
"Yes, Bren." Gral'hilanth cleared her throat. "It is from the office of Military Operations and states that Karthen's forces have struck in three different places on the same day. A communications relay and corvette were destroyed in the Saland system. Another corvette was destroyed on border patrol in the Theelin sector. They also hit a fuel refinery near the Andantian border. The refinery took some damage and fuel production is halted. They also took two full Class 32 fuel supply ships from a convoy that was being loaded."
Ambra listened in disbelief. "What about Karthen's forces? What losses did they take?"
"None confirmed, Bren."
Ambra dropped her utensils and pushed her plate away. Of course, Karthen would know how and where to strike, Ambra thought as it dawned on her that she had been too busy focussing on domestic policies and had not issued new fleet deployment orders since she had taken over as Bren. It was her mistake, because she had not replaced herself as head of Military Operations.
"There is more," Gral'hilanth said.
"Go on."
"Karthen has broadcast a message Hegemony-wide declaring herself Rivelor, commanding the opposition forces she called the Arai Soon Dukwelud. She is calling for others to join her to defeat you."
"Treason!" Ambra slammed her fist on the table. "I am the legitimate ruler of The Kalenth Hegemony. Karthen is Hebsifilla. She has no right to claim the title of Rivelor."
Karthen will pay dearly for this, thought Ambra. She would see to it, but for now she had a convenient scapegoat standing in front of her.
Ambra came around the table to where Falentha was standing. "How could you allow a fuel refinery to be hit and fuel tankers captured? Any Academy cadet would know how to deploy their escort ships. Oh, that's right, you didn't graduate the Academy." Ambra knew Falentha had nothing to do with the defeats. She was angry and meant to land a verbal jab. Judging by the aloyd's reaction, it had its desired effect.
"It's not my fault," said Gral'hilanth. "I am not in charge of fleet deployment."
Ambra backhanded the aloyd across the face. "Don't give me excuses!"
Gral'hilanth's head snapped back with the blow. Ambra thought she saw a glimmer of defiance on the aloyd's face. That requires punishment.
"Don't you dare give me that look!"
"I am not, Bren."
"Don't lie to me. I can see it clearly on your face. You want to strike me back."
"No, Bren, I swear."
Ambra slapped the other side of Gral'hilanth's face. "You dare talk back?"
"No, Bren!"
Ambra was losing her temper, and there was only one way to quell it. She grabbed Gral'hilanth by the arm and shoved her towards the bedroom. Once inside, Ambra slammed the door closed before her slave could follow.
She made a show of locking the door. "What have I told you about defying me?" Ambra turned and saw fear in Gral'hilanth's eyes. Good, she thought. A little fear will keep the aloyd under control.
She opened a drawer and pulled out a stick the width of her small finger. It was pliable so it would sting as well as raise a welt. She held the cane to her side. Her voice was low and menacing. "You deserve punishment, don't you?"
Gral'hilanth averted her eyes but did not answer.
"I asked you a question. Do you deserve punishment?" Ambra could barely contain her rage. She twirled the cane in her right hand.
"Yes, Bren," said the aloyd.
"Say it. Say 'I deserve punishment.'" Ambra recited.
Ambra saw it again. That glint of hatred. She hadn't broken Gral'hilanth yet, not completely. This was going to be a long session.
Ambra lifted the cane up to shoulder height, but before she brought the cane down, the aloyd lowered her head.
"I—I deserve punishment."
This small victory over Gral'hilanth pleased Ambra, but the aloyd needed to be taught a lesson.
"Remove your clothing and assume the position."
"I only obey." Gral'hilanth slowly removed her uniform and bent over the edge of the bed, face down and legs spread slightly apart.
Ambra didn't hold back as she brought the cane down on Gral'hilanth's bare buttocks. She noted how the muscles clenched and the flesh turned red and welted. Ambra was aroused. She briefly entertained the idea of abandoning the caning and instead fucking Gral'hilanth. However, this wasn't about pleasure, at least not now. Stroke after stroke, Ambra took out her rage. This punishment was meant as much for her as it was for Gral'hilanth.
I will teach Lyra to use it on me when I am through with Falentha, she thought. Bad people deserved to be punished.
~~~~
Gral'hilanth stepped out into the warm Ralkatar summer night and started walking. She didn't know, or care, where she was going. All she knew was she couldn't go back to the Relentless and face the duties of an aloyd, not yet. If she could have run, she would have – as far away as possible from this miserable life she was living.
Her gait was stiff and careful. Her uniform could shield her from the heat, but it could not shield her from the burning pain, which radiated from her buttocks and down her legs. Ambra had been particularly cruel in meting out a severe punishment for some made-up transgression. Gral'hilanth tried to recall what she had said that had made Ambra so angry. Whatever it was, it must have been my fault, Gral'hilanth thought.
Whether by accident or subconsciously, Gral'hilanth found herself by a set of large metal gates. She stared through them at the darkness beyond. The gates could be opened easily enough, but that would register her entry, and she didn't want it recorded.
Ignoring the pain, Gral'hilanth heaved herself over a nearby wall and wandered into the gloom. There was a heady aroma of grass, mud, flowers and… death, she thought. It's the smell of death.
Gral'hilanth avoided the security monitoring devices by staying off of the main paths. Despite the lack of lighting, she knew where she was going. It didn't take her long to find what she was seeking.
Gral'hilanth sank to her knees and placed a hand on the ground. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could make out the small marker. She couldn't read the inscription, but she didn't need to; she knew what it said.
Kamina Dortmer
Died 1602 aged 19
Friend and more
She ran her fingers over the lettering. "Hi there," she whispered. Tears flowed and dripped onto her hand. "I really messed up."
The tearful woman sunk to the ground, careful not to sit on her still-tender backside. Gral'hilanth wanted to pour her heart out, tell her departed friend all her troubles, but she knew it would not help her. Instead she curled up on the grass in front of the marker and wept…and wept, for the pain and humiliation, for the desolation of her situation, and for the loss of her beloved Kami.
"Kami, what should I do? Help me!" The tears began again as Gral'hilanth pleaded for some guidance from beyond the grave. "Tell me what to do! Please!"
Gral'hilanth waited for an answer or a sign, but there was nothing, not a sound, except for her spasmodic breathing.
Exhaustion must've overtaken Gral'hilanth because when she awoke, the night's sky was no longer inky black. She could make out her surroundings more easily, which meant she would be on duty soon. She kissed her hand and placed it on Kami's marker, then picked herself up off the ground, and made her way out of the cemetery the same way she came in.
By the time Gral'hilanth reached the shuttle port, the sun had just risen above the horizon. As Gral'hilanth entered the shuttle, the pilot gave her a strange look. Following his gaze, she noticed the grass stains on her trousers. She didn't have the energy to come up with a plausible excuse to explain her dishevelled appearance.
"Just fly!" she ordered. She sank into the nearest seat and started to fasten the seat belt.
"Yes, sir!" The pilot turned and entered the cockpit.
Within a minute the shuttlecraft took off, and Gral'hilanth watched the ground fall away.
Ten minutes later, the large grey outer hull of the Relentless loomed large outside the shuttle window and swallowed the small shuttlecraft. Gral'hilanth sat impatiently as the landing protocols were observed. When completed, she released her seat restraints and headed for the exit. She tried to remain calm as she quickly strode across the hangar, not stopping to acknowledge salutes from crew. The lift was thankfully empty; she dreaded it stopping before her destination in case she had to engage in conversation with someone.
"Slave!" She called out as she entered her quarters.
The red-haired slave came out of its cell. "Mistress."
It had the look of a beaten dog waiting for the next thrashing. Just like me with Ambra. "I need a clean uniform." As she started removing her jacket, the slave rushed to help her mistress shed the soiled jacket. "And a shower." Gral'hilanth headed for her bedroom, pulling off her undershirt. She sat on the bed and the slave knelt before Gral'hilanth to remove her boots.
Once the boots were off, the slave reached up to remove Gral'hilanth's trousers. "I can do that," said Gral'hilanth and lightly swatted the slave's hands away. The slave flinched and cowered as if expecting further punishment. Shame at her treatment of the slave swept over Gral'hilanth. She reached out and gently raised the slave's bruised face. "What is your name?"
The slave looked panicked. "You said that I did not have one, Mistress."
"What did my parents call you?"
"Ishma, Mistress."
"Ishma," Gral'hilanth repeated the name. "I am sorry if—I am sorry for mistreating you."
"You treat me as you wish, Mistress. I only obey."
I only obey. Gral'hilanth felt the sting of those words as painfully as the blows from Ambra's cane. "Go to your cell," Gral'hilanth whispered. "I can manage on my own."
The confusion on Ishma's face was clear. It wanted to obey the command but couldn't fathom that Gral'hilanth was going to see to herself. "Go to your cell," Gral'hilanth repeated in a stronger tone.
"Yes, Mistress." With that the slave hurried out.
Gral'hilanth wanted to take a shower, but she was too sore, too tired to lift herself up again. So, she allowed her body to fall backward upon the bed and the dull pain to overtake her will to remain conscious.
How long it had been, she couldn't say, but Gral'hilanth gradually became aware of being in the corridor of a ship. Her heart leapt for joy knowing that she was once again on her old freighter the Glyndwr.
"Kami?" She called out. No response. "Kami, are you here?" She paused, straining to listen for the soft laughter of her deceased lover. She started walking. It felt eerily quiet. "Kami, please. I need to see you, to talk to you." She listened again. Still nothing. Her heart sank in despair. She had never felt so alone.
Then she was aware of a presence moving away from her, heading towards the lounge. Her mood lightened. She followed after it, anticipating an encounter with Kami, as the recurring dream usually played out. Instead, when she rounded the corner, she was met by a dark cloud-like spectre. Its shape was roughly humanoid, but it had no distinguishing features.
As the face started to come into focus, Gral'hilanth felt a rush of excitement. She could just make out Kami's beautiful face and wistful smile. The expectation made her heart feel light.
"Kami!" Gral'hilanth took a step towards it. As she did, the face transformed into a contorted, menacing visage looking back at her. She thought she heard the sound of laughter, but not Kami's playful giggle. The laughter was cruel – like Ambra's.
The spectre started moving towards Gral'hilanth, taunting her with its callous laughter, which seemed to get louder, echoing from every place on the ship. The sound was almost deafening. Gral'hilanth turned on her heel and tried to get away – tried to outrun it, but it was impossible. She felt helpless to escape. The apparition grew and grew until it enveloped Gral'hilanth and threatened to swallow her up in the blackness.
"Nooo!"
Gral'hilanth awoke from her dream with a start. At first she was disoriented. Am I dead? She thought. She couldn't be, she determined, because she felt her heart pounding. As her eyes adjusted to the low ambient light, she could tell that she was no longer on the Glyndwr. She was in her bedroom on the Relentless.
Gral'hilanth tried to sit up, but her muscles ached so much she couldn't move. As she lay there, she kept replaying the disturbing nightmare, unable to erase the menacing image of Ambra haunting the corridors of the one place she felt safe.
Gral'hilanth remained in her bed for several minutes, unable or unwilling to move, all the while imagining how she could repay Ambra in ways that would cause maximum suffering. I could march into Ambra's bedroom and kill her while her slave was bringing her to climax, Gral'hilanth thought. No, that's too swift a death. What could I do that would cause Ambra the maximum amount of suffering? What does Ambra love most? Gral'hilanth mused. Her sons! That's it! I could tie her down and gag her, then bring her two precious boys into the room and make her watch as I slowly strangle each one while she tries to beg for their pitiful lives. Then I would whip her until she bled before killing her.
While the thought of humiliating Ambra and causing her unimaginable pain brought a sense of peace to Gral'hilanth, she knew she was too much of a coward to ever do it. Is there no way out of this purgatory for me?
~~~~
Ambra checked the chronometer. It was early, the summer sun was already up, but she'd rather be in bed making Lyra cry. However, she was up early to make a call. Her parents stuck to local Edalcim time, not Kalenth Standard Time. It would be late evening there.
The leader of The Kalenth Hegemony straightened the sleeve on the simple white dress she wore. She sat down and smoothed out the folds of the dress across her knee. She took a deep breath, sat up straight, tidied her hair, and initiated the call.
Her father's holographic image appeared. He smiled at first before assuming a neutral expression. "Ambra."
"How are you?" she asked.
"I have been better."
The reply was devoid of any warmth. All her life Ambra had sought his approval, without success. He has always been detached, she thought. "I have a diplomatic mission for you," Ambra continued. "I want to send you to the Arapay. They have avoided us for so long, I am hoping a new lead—"
"Send someone else," Benlen interrupted. "I have put in for retirement."
His statement caught her off guard. "New leadership… Retire? You… When?"
"Today. Effective immediately."
"You can't retire. I will not allow it."
"It is not up to you."
"I am Bren!" Ambra raised her voice. "I rule the Hegemony!"
"I wish you luck in doing so. I want no part of it."
"Why?"
Her father waited before replying. "You have always been a good daughter. You have worked hard for the good of the Hegemony. You have given us two wonderful grandchildren. Now though, you have spoiled it all with your selfish grab for power. Your exclusion of other Elit." He shook his head. "I feel as though you are a stranger. You are not the daughter your mother and I raised."
"I was a good daughter? You never told me that before. I always thought that I disappointed you."
The image of Benlen's face softened. "You shouldn't have to be praised for doing what is right. I thought you understood that. We instilled in you what it meant to be Elit. How to act, how to think, and what to believe. Maybe it's your…" He fell silent for a moment. "Perhaps it is our fault. We failed in raising you properly."
Ambra felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off her, only to be kicked in the stomach. She had finally received some approval from her father, only for him to blame her for not learning how to be Elit enough. Father tried to shift the blame to himself and mother, but he was going to say it was my fault, my failure, for not being a good Elit. Fine. If he wants the blame, he can have it.
"You are right," Ambra replied. "You failed in raising me properly. I became Bren by my own hand. You deserve no credit or reward from me. Enjoy your retirement and reflect on your failure for having such a spectacularly mediocre career."
Ambra didn't wait for a reply. She ended the call and returned to the bedroom. Lyra stood against the wall; her eyes downcast. Her naked body carried the fresh bruises and welts from Ambra's abuse. The sight of the slave caused a stirring in Ambra's loins. This is what they made me, a degenerate who is aroused at the sight of a naked female slave.
She picked up the cane from the floor and approached Lyra. The slave didn't cower at the prospect of a further beating; it just stood there.
"I am a bad person, Lyra," Ambra said submissively. "Bad people need punishment." She held out the cane. "Take it. Tear my clothes off, push me down on the bed, and use the cane on my bare bottom. Make it red raw."
Lyra reached out and took the cane.
"When I tell you to stop, give me ten more strokes. Then piss on me. That is all I am fit for. A toilet for a slave."
Ambra turned around and felt the slave's hand on the fastener at the back of her dress.
"I said rip it off me," Ambra scolded the slave. She reached up and tore her left sleeve. "Like that."
Lyra pulled at the torn seam, after a few more pulls the dress fell away, leaving Ambra naked.
Ambra thought she would have to tell the slave to push her, but was pleased when Lyra did without further prompting. She found herself bent over the bed with her bottom stuck up. She waited. It was as if Lyra knew that waiting in that position was humiliating. The first stroke was not hard, but it still stung. "Harder."
The sting of each stroke added to the self-loathing she felt. How I wish they could see me now.
~~~~
Gral'hilanth was brought out of her thoughts of revenge when she heard the muffled sounds of voices coming from the other room. Her slave came into the bedroom and announced that Commodore Eadmon was waiting in the lounge. Gral'hilanth cursed to herself and reluctantly struggled from her bed, her body still sore and achy from Ambra's punishment and sleeping on the ground the previous night. She grabbed her uniform trousers and undershirt from the floor, quickly put them on, and followed her slave.
"Good morning, Aloyd."
Gral'hilanth could see Eadmon eyeing her appearance. She looked down at her bare feet and felt a flush of embarrassment. "What can I do for you, Commodore?"
"We were supposed to have a meeting," Eadmon replied. "It was scheduled for 08:00 hours. Since you didn't turn up and weren't answering your comm, I thought I had better check on you."
Gral'hilanth only vaguely remembered something about a meeting. "What time is it now?"
"08:30, sir."
"Oh." Gral'hilanth offered no excuse or apology. She had none.
"Permission to speak freely, Aloyd?"
"Permission granted."
"Are you all right?" Eadmon queried.
Gral'hilanth wasn't prepared for such a question. Nobody had asked about her wellbeing in a long time. She tried to play innocent. "Why do you ask?"
"Your face."
"What about my face?" Gral'hilanth's tone was defensive.
"Have you not seen it?" Commodore Eadmon asked with a voice of concern.
Gral'hilanth moved to a nearby mirror and looked at her reflection. Her hair was a mess and her uniform dirty. Worst of all, she saw the swelling and dark blue-purple bruising dominating her right cheek. There was also a small gash just below her left eye, where Ambra's ring scraped across her face. The mere memory of being slapped so hard made her wince.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Gral'hilanth's heart leapt. Maybe it's a sign from Kami that this is my chance to tell somebody. It then came crashing down. Ambra warned me not to tell anyone. She said I wouldn't be believed. She said my family would disown me. She said I deserved punishment. "I…I fell."
"Forgive me, but these injuries weren't caused by a fall. Someone hit you."
Gral'hilanth felt a rush of panic. She had been called out on her lie. What do I do now? she thought. Do I tell her and risk losing everything? Or do I keep my secret?
"Never mind, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Eadmon said.
"No, I do!" Gral'hilanth blurted out. She sat down carefully in a nearby chair and directed Eadmon to sit in the chair next to her. "I-I went to the Bren's residence. While I was there, the report on activities by Karthen's forces came through. She got very angry, especially when she heard about the supply convoy and our inability to protect it." Gral'hilanth paused.
"And she slapped you?"
"Yes… and more."
"More? What do you mean?"
Gral'hilanth felt a twinge of pain in her backside as she remembered the caning she had endured. She wasn't certain what was more painful, Ambra's abuse or admitting to it.
"You can trust me," Garin offered with a pat on Gral'hilanth's hand.
"Ambra didn't just slap me. She beat me… with a cane." Gral'hilanth paused to see what the commodore's reaction might be, but there was none. "You're thinking, 'how could I allow her to beat me?' Because… because I am her slave."
"Her slave?" Eadmon questioned.
Gral'hilanth knew she would have to explain even though it was humiliating to admit, even to herself, let alone to someone else. "I do whatever she tells me to do, and she does whatever she wants to do to me."
"Are you saying you allow her to hit you?"
"I am saying she does whatever she wants." Gral'hilanth emphasised the word 'whatever' to infer her meaning.
Gral'hilanth watched Eadmon's facial reaction register her bewilderment. She dreaded having to be even more explicit, but she had come this far. "Besides physical abuse, she requires me to perform sex acts."
"I see," said Eadmon. "How—"
"How could I allow it to happen?" Gral'hilanth interjected. "It happened one step at a time. At first, I tolerated her unusual requests, because I felt I was beholden to her for my commission to Aloyd. Then the price for her patronage became demands and blackmail. By the time the abuse became extreme, I couldn't walk away, no matter how much I wanted to, because she had threatened my family if I did."
"What can I do to help?" Eadmon asked.
Gral'hilanth was impressed that the commodore seemed to hide her shock well. "Nothing. Nobody can help me." Gral'hilanth lowered her head. "If Ambra found out I said anything to anyone, she will just deny it and make good on her threats to publically humiliate my parents, or worse have the entire Falentha family imprisoned or killed!"
"But she has to be stopped," Eadmon insisted, standing up.
Gral'hilanth jumped up out of her chair in a panic. "No! You can't say anything to anyone about this. You have to promise me. Swear it!"
"Yes, I promise, I swear," said Eadmon. "But there must be something you can do."
"You mean why don't I just put an IPB to her head and pull the trigger?" Gral'hilanth didn't give Eadmon a chance to respond. "Believe me, I've thought about it many times, but if I did, Ambra would die a martyr and no one would ever know what a monster she really is." She slumped back into the chair and held her head in her hands. Finally, she looked up and said, "The only way out of this for me is to kill myself."
Eadmon knelt down in front of her. "Taking your own life isn't the answer."
Gral'hilanth didn't look up. "Why not? At least then I would be free of Ambra and this miserable existence."
Eadmon touched Gral'hilanth's arm and said, "What if I said there might be another way out of this situation… for both of us?"